


Milestones

by oncethrown



Category: Boy Meets World
Genre: College, M/M, obsessive cory, shawn deserves nice things, shawn growing up, shawn in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 92,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncethrown/pseuds/oncethrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Topanga at Yale and Cory trying to recreate thier entire relationship via phone, and Angela at school in Chicago, Shawn's first semester is proving to be very lonely, and for the first time in years, Shawn finds himself seeking out new friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shawn started keeping track of milestones the second time he dated Angela. He'd missed things like "First Kiss" and "First Date" during the undocumented Two Week Rule time and started wildly overcompensating when Angela had run into him at his locker one morning kissed him and said "Happy Week Three" with a smile. He'd kept a mental file ever since. "First Time I Went to Her House" when they'd partnered up for a History project on Pearl Harbor and he'd been so worried that she'd ask to come over to his trailer "First Thing She Told Me Something She Hadn't Told Anyone Else"- when she was little she'd run over a frog with her bike and been so upset about it that later she'd scraped it off the sidewalk and buried it in her apartment's window box. "Our First Valentine's Day", "The First Time We Said I Love You" "Our  _First Time_ ".

He never brings it up. He never tells anyone, even Cory, that he does it. He just keeps track. As though he were afraid of some sort of audit, where someone would want to check the paperwork on "The First Movie I Took Her To" or subpoena "The First Present I Got Her".

When Angela got into Columbia and took off for Chicago, Shawn carefully demarcated all previous files into the category of "First Real Relationship" and started over with an optimistic list of his own. "First Day of College"- September 3rd. "First Dorm Room" Stevens 314, "First Girl to Flirt with Me" Donna Lachmann- Junior.

He's started keeping another list too, and still can't quite figure out why it's "Firsts Without Topanga" rather than "Firsts Without Angela", but it is. Maybe it was just that they'd known her longer. Even when he and Cory hadn't been friends with Topanga she'd been a presence that was hard to ignore. Maybe it because Cory is trying so hard to pretend she hasn't left.

So while September Third is mostly "First Day of College" Shawn had also been fully aware that it was "First Ever First Day of School without Topanga."

Shawn tries to bring Cory along with him, tries to make him a part of all of his firsts, but Cory is obstinate, terrified to change, and refusing to admit that their group had changed.

So Shawn feels a little guilty when he comes across "First New Friend at College" Peter MacDonald- Sophmore. They were both taking the same math class and both doing it in order to get something they hated having to do out of the way so they never had to do it again. They bonded over the fact that the class made them both miserable and after one particularly bewildering Friday afternoon class Peter had invited Shawn to his dorm room to go over the homework. Peter's roommate, Jeremy, who wore a lot of black and a little bit of eyeliner, had agreed to tutor Peter in exchange for Peter using his ID to buy booze whenever Jeremy asked him for it.

One night after both Shawn and Peter have completely and totally failed to understand imaginary numbers, Jeremy gets frustrated and kicks them out. Peter grabs his back pack and they head down to Shawn's room to hang out. "First Time I Hoped Cory Wasn't Home" Shawn thinks to himself, feeling guilty about it.

Cory was having a tough time at college. He'd signed up for a couple classes that were beyond him, he wouldn't come to anything that Shawn tried to invite him to, he missed Topanga and he was having a lot of trouble with the long-distance thing. He calls every day, at the same times he would have seen her, or to ask for some help with his homework or during the detective show they used to watch together. But he get depressed when she doesn't answer, he checks his phone obsessively for a reply to text messages and three days ago Topanga had gotten frustrated with him and told him to go and try something new, then wait for her to call him. She still hasn't called and Cory is sinker further and further into a black, nasty mood. And while he isn't exactly taking it out on Shawn, Shawn is still bearing the brunt of it. So when he and Peter arrive at his dorm room door to find it locked, Shawn's relieved.

They pick a movie off Cory's bookshelf, Shawn grabs Cory's pillow off his bunk and makes his own bed into a makeshift couch. Peter pulls a bottle of Jack Daniels out of his back pack as the credits roll.

"D'you have glasses?"

Shawn swallows. Somehow, in his little daydreams about college girls and college parties, this scenario had escaped him.

"Oh, I… um…" he stammers, not sure how to explain. He gets up and retrieves one of the three cups he and Cory collectively own, "Here."

Peter smiles, "There's enough for two you know. And I have," he pulls two cans of coke from his bag, "Mixers. Cause I'm classy like that."

"I can't," Shawn tells him. Fantastic. "First Time," (probably of thousands) "That I have to explain I'm an Alcoholic", he marks it off in his head.

"It's really okay, Shawn," Peter said, "I brought it to share."

"It's just that I can't drink," Shawn admits, "Well… I can drink I just can't… stop."

The grin falls from Peter's face, "Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't think…" He opened his back pack again, "Never mind, I don't have to-"

"No," Shawn presses the cup into his hand, "It's okay. Seriously, it's fine. You can have your drink. Doesn't bother me."

"I don't have to,"

"Please," Shawn insists. He's going to meet new people, they are going to drink around him, Jack and Eric having beers in the apartment never bothered him. He's fine.

Peter gives him a little bit of a wary look, but pours some whiskey in the cup, tops it off with coke and hands Shawn the other can.

They sort of watch the movie, but mostly they talk. All of Shawn's stories are still high school stories, but Peter seems to appreciate the "Shawn and Cory" chronicles. Peter recounts a couple pranks gone wrong and nights of curfew breaking with his high school best friends, Gary and Linda. Peter's from a smaller town so his stories are closer to the "make your own ridiculous-not-sure-it-was-legal-and-it-was-definitely-trespassing fun" variety.

He also gives Shawn some campus heads up from someone who's already survived their first year of bizarre professors, unexpected cafeteria induced sicknesses (apparently nothing made of tofu is to be trusted) and roommate issues. Shawn tells him about Cory and the issues they've been having and admits that he's been thinking about calling Topanga himself and asking her to take it easy on Cory. Peter laughs, then suddenly spots Shawn's bookshelf, and jumps for it, seizing "Catcher in the Rye" and squatting down in front of the shelf. When the movie ends they're still talking about how many times they've gone back over the book and how they can't figure out if identifying with Holden Caulfield means they're nuts, normal, or just pretentious. Peter admits to having been pretentious enough in high school to have carried around a volume of Pablo Neruda's poems with him everywhere. He's horrified when Shawn's never read it and insists that he borrow it if he's interested in poetry at all.

"Yeah, absolutely!" Shawn agrees enthusiastically, then out of nowhere, "I've been writing poetry forever."

He flushes red- he's never told anyone that. Turner didn't know, Feeny didn't know, Angela didn't know, Cory doesn't know- and he's telling some guy he's only known for two weeks. Maybe it's a contact drunk.

"That's awesome," Peter says, slurring just the tiniest bit, "I love poetry, but I can't do it. Course back in my Neruda days it's not like that stopped me. I've burned the extant evidence, but that level of douchery still haunts me," Peter giggles and pours a little bit more whiskey into his empty cup setting the open bottle on the floor. He gulps it down and expels a breath. Shawn can smell the whiskey in the air. God it smells good.

"I do short stories now, still a little pretentious, but at least I don't suck at it. So what do you write poetry about?" Peter asks.

"Umm… my family. About thinking I was a tough little shit. I have one about JD Salinger actually. Well not exactly about him… but … he's involved."

"Do you have poems about Cory?" Peter asks quietly.

Shawn snorts, "Yeah a couple. There's "Death by Llama" and "Where Did All This Cake Come From?" They're… awful poems, but… it's something that I just do for myself so… you know… they don't have to be good."

Shawn's guilt at enjoying Cory's absence suddenly becomes guilt at not worrying about his continued absence. His eyes flick to the clock on his bookshelf. It's 10:30. That's a completely unreasonable time for Cory to still be out. There is a wild chance that he took Topanga's request that he try something new as an order, but it's unlikely and Shawn knows it.

"I'm sure they're good," Peter tells him. In Shawn's moment of guilt over Cory's whereabouts, Peter's moved closer. Shawn remembers how affectionate a drunk he used to be and shakes his head.

"What does Cory think of them?"

Shawn looks down at his hands for a moment before looking back to Peter, "He doesn't know. I didn't really have literary friends in high school. I've never told anyone about the poetry thing," Shawn shrugs and opens his mouth to continue that it's nice to have met someone to talk to about it and then Peter's kissing him.

The use of tongue is understated, but the trace of whiskey is overwhelming and the unheralded kiss from this unexpected quarter is so stunning that Shawn lets himself be kissed for a misleading amount of time before he pulls away.

"Umm," he tries for more words, but poet or no, they aren't forthcoming.

"So I kinda like you," Peter tells him softly, warm and close, his hand slipping to Shawn's neck. Shawn's heart sinks and his cheeks flare.

"Oh… Peter… look-"

And that's when Cory gets home, already in a temper, judging by the way he kicks the door as he comes in.

"I just tried to call Topanga and she-"

Cory stops dead still as he takes in the scene, Peter's larger frame hovering over Shawn's, faces still together, Shawn's furiously red cheeks, whiskey on the air and the bottle on the ground.

Cory grabs Peter by the back of the shirt and hauls him to his feet.

"Out. Now. Take the bottle and get the hell out."

"Cory-Stop it!"

"You," Cory points a finger at Shawn with his free hand, "Are not making decisions right now, Shawn."

"I'm not drunk!" Shawn shouts.

"He's not drunk," Peter says at the same time.

"Let him go Cory-  _Jesus_  what is your problem?"

"You really aren't drunk?" Cory demands.

"No!" Shawn spits- and that hurts- Cory thinking that Shawn can't make it two whole weeks at college without swan diving off the wagon, "I really can control myself,  _Cory_."

Cory lets go of Peter, who rubs his hand across his neck where his shirt collar choked him.

"I should go," Peter lunges for his bottle and his bag and then the door, screwing the cap back on the bottle as he leaves.

"Wait!" Shawn calls heading after him and shooting Cory a dirty look as he ducks into the hallway. He grabs Peter by the shoulder.

"Wait," he says again and Peter turns around, just as red as Shawn now, "I'm sorry about that… Cory's… having a shit time of it… and he's like a mother hen. Like a mother of many other hens."

"Yeah," Peter drops the bottle into his back pack and rubs his neck again, not really looking at Shawn. He looks strangely small right now for such a big guy, "That was exciting."

"And he's… the last time I was drinking I peed on a police car and threw my girlfriend into a wall… he's got reasons."

Peter's face scrunches up in embarrassment, "Girlfriend."

"Yeah," Shawn says gently, then realizes everything else that's just spilled out, "Threw into a wall sounds bad- I didn't… throw her. It was more of a shove. I didn't hurt her, but I really scared her and it was really  _really_ not like me. At all. And umm…. Neither is- you know- what he walked in on," Shawn tries to wrap up the rambling, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"No, it's cool," Peter manages then finally looks up at Shawn, "I'm sorry. I usually read people better than that."

Shawn nudges the back pack Peter's using as a shield with his knuckles, "Maybe you over did it," he jokes uncomfortably. Peter coughs out a fake laugh.

"Yeah, okay… I should go home," he says, beginning to turn again.

"Look, Peter," Shawn says, "We're… okay right? Like if I come sit by you in class Monday we aren't both going to sit in this terrible awkward silence wishing we were dead, right?"

Peter laughs for real this time, "I think I'll survive sitting by you in class on Monday, yeah."

"Good," Shawn nods, then just to make sure Peter's really getting it, "And don't worry. Everybody gets a crush on me eventually. It's the hair," Shawn gives him an explanatory hair flip.

Peter snorts, "Okay-that did it. Crush over. I'll see you Monday. I'll bring the book."

"Cool."

"Night."

Peter walks down the hallway, shoulders still hunched a little, and Shawn returns to his room, where Cory is still standing, fuming in the center of the room.

"You understand why I assumed you'd been drinking right?" Cory asks, clearly trying to ask apologetically, but on his last damn straw of the day.

"Yeah. But I wasn't."

"I know. I'm sorry," Cory lets out a sigh that almost sounds painful, and squeezes his thumbs briefly into his temples, "Soo.. what was going on in here?" he asks, as though it's just a point of clarification.

"You know Peter that I keep trying to get you to come to dinner and meet?"

"That's him?" Cory asks carefully.

"Yeah. Apparently he's got a crush on me. And I was trying to explain to him that I'm flattered but straight when you strolled in and went  _insane_."

"Again- very sorry- but the first glance around the room was an open bottle of whiskey and you doing something crazy. It looked like  _he'd gotten you_  drunk."

"Well good for you- you got here in time to save my sobriety  _and_  my virtue," Shawn snaps then feels bad, "What happened with Topanga?"

Cory sighs, relieved to be back on familiar territory, "Ugh. Topanga-"

Shawn starts putting his pajamas on, only half listening to Cory but picking up the important details. Cory's trip to the student art gallery all by himself was not enough of "trying out campus life" to merit calling Topanga instead of waiting for her to call him and now she had gotten into the fall play, so she was going to be busy every night.

Shawn leaves his light on and when Cory finally falls asleep, he grabs Catcher in the Rye off the shelf and starts re-reading.


	2. In Which Shawn Has A Guest

On Monday Peter brings the Pablo Neruda book to class, and he and Shawn exchange thoroughly unenthused glances at the prospect of learning to divide fractions. Peter tells him that Jeremy has agreed to meet them in the library on Wednesday, but if they're going to dick around like they did with imaginary numbers, he's going to make them start paying for tutoring. They both pretend the awkward kissing incident never happened, then at their Friday afternoon tutoring session, Jeremy makes a crack about Peter running around tonguing the freshman. All three boys laugh, and Peter loosens up a little bit. He gets a little less cynical and a little more affectionate than Shawn is really comfortable with, but after a week or two of hanging out with Peter, Shawn realizes that's how he treats everyone, and his original standoffishness was probably part of his crush. Shawn stops noticing.

Topanga finally calls Cory, and they have a very long, pleasant conversation about her rehearsals, their detective show and college in general. Cory lightens up. He joins pottery club, and starts coming to dinner in the cafeteria with Shawn, Peter, some of Peter's friends and a small amalgamation of people from their classes.

But it's still hard to get Cory away from his phone, out of the room, and he still has the occasional snit about not being able to get a hold of Topanga for days at a time. Sometimes Shawn tries to help, sometime he avoids Cory until he chills out. He hates it. Cory's refusing to move forward and Shawn can't stand the thought of holding back just for him… but the idea of outgrowing Cory terrifies him to his very roots. He finds ways to distract himself.

One of these ways is Jessica, a friend of one of Cory's pottery friends. She's short and curvy, "ample" being Peter's primary adjective for her (a word he uses while drawing a crude hourglass in the air), and Shawn misses a lot of math class while daydreaming about her underwear.

"She's by the pop machine," Peter says in his ear after class one day, "Go ask her out."

"I don't know. I'd rather talk to her when she's-"

But Peter's already gone, striding toward the pop machine. Shawn watches him flutter a hand at her, (Peter has a tendency to play up the gay thing a little around girls, Shawn teases him about it) point at him, then lean in conspiratorially for a moment. Jessica laughs as he pulls back and Peter shrugs. He starts back toward Shawn, Jessica following along beside him.

"So…" Jessica starts, as Peter slips around behind Shawn, "I hear that you're done with class for the day. You want to go get a cup of coffee in the union?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Shawn answers, a little stunned. He hasn't asked a girl out since Angela, he didn't expect things to just come together like this.

"Have fun," Peter says, slapping Shawn on the shoulder and kissing him on the back of the head before taking off.

"He's affectionate."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure what he told you, but, be warned he's also a filthy liar."

"He said you look skinny in that T-shirt, but it's all muscle underneath," Jessica smirks.

"Oh, yeah, well that's true."

Jessica turns out to be excruciatingly boring. Shawn gets halfway through his cup of coffee before wondering if stabbing his wooden stir stick directly into his eye would stop her monologue about her very technical and thoroughly uninteresting biology project. Shawn offers the one interesting thing he knows about science- the video of the guy that brought a severed dog's head back to life with some sort of blood pump- as an attempt to break into the conversation. This just starts Jessica off on a rant about animal cruelty and when Cory calls to see if he's coming for dinner Shawn leaps from the couch in relief and does his best not to run to the cafeteria and away from her.

His luck with girls doesn't improve. He asks out Jenny from his literature class and that lasts three dates before she just doesn't have time for him anymore because of her class and work load. Then Ashley from the student union, who he goes to two parties with and then dumps because she pregames both of them to the point where she stumbles into the house, then spends most of the party hurling in the hosts back yard. Then Theresa, who "suddenly has to leave" when she finds out that he grew up poor.

He's getting ready to swear off girls for the rest of the semester and concentrate on school when Angela calls from out of the blue a couple days before fall break. She's going to be in Philly for a long weekend, she was hoping they could get dinner or something.

It's a relief to talk to a girl that actually likes him, Shawn realizes as he and Angela have a comfortable conversation over a burger at Chubbies. She doesn't give him that appraising look he's sick of getting, she doesn't challenge him on points he knows nothing about, and they actually have enough in common to talk about.

"So… Cory's in Connecticut," he says as they pick up the check, "I've got the room to myself."

"Actually…" Angela starts guiltily, "I'm kind of seeing someone."

Damn, the longer they'd talked the more he'd been hoping this really would be like old times.

"Oh, okay," Shawn says, "You kept that one close to the chest."

Angela shrugs, "Sorry. It just didn't come up."

It's about to get awkward when Peter calls. Apparently things are getting awesome on the third floor, and Shawn invites Angela to forget the thing about the empty dorm room and come along.

Peter's in the hallway without a shirt when Shawn and Angela get to the dorm, and he rushes right up to Angela with a cry of "You've got to be her, you're even prettier than he said you were." Shawn makes a "cut it out motion" behind Angela, but Peter ignores it and reaches out to grab both their hands, pulling them upstairs with him.

There's a three table game of drunken strip poker going on in one person's dorm room and the loser is going to have to eat a habanero pepper while completely naked in front of everyone. Angela rolls her eyes, but stays to hang out for a while. Shawn gets roped into the game. He's not great at poker, but he's the only person in the room in full possession of his faculties so he does all right. Angela and Peter howl at him when he loses his shirt, which he peels off with just a little bit of flare. He spends the next hand watching Peter and Angela giggle together and finds himself wondering where he'd been right now if Cory was in town. Probably in their room, doing nothing. It's the kind of thought he's been having lately, and it upsets him. His lack of concentration costs him his pants, and then Angela decides she should go home for the night, excusing him from a painful and embarrassing fate. He gets dressed to general booing and takes her home.

"This was nice," he tells her in her driveway.

"It was," she agrees, then laughs, "A little odd, maybe, but yeah."

"We should get together the next time you're in town. Do something a little less…"

"Frat boy stupid?" Angela supplies, "Yeah. That would be fun. I'll call you."

She kisses him on the cheek and gets out of the car, giving him a small wave as she ducks into her house. Shawn goes back to the party, which apparently ended after Olson lost.

"He tried to eat the whole thing in one bite. He's still crying and puking in the bathroom," Peter shivers sympathetically.

"You can come hang out in my room," Shawn offers. It's only midnight and seeing Angela's given him kind of a charge. Peter shrugs and follows him downstairs.

"So, Angela seems pretty cool. And I'm not the best judge, but I'd also go with freaking beautiful," Peter says as Shawn turns on some music and flops down on his bed. Peter plops down with him, touching shoulders and hips, "Sorry about her boyfriend, man."

"Should've seen that coming," Shawn sighs.

"Well if it helps any the only thing she and I talked about was you. She kept talking about how you were sweet and charming and a great boyfriend."

Shawn scoffs.

"I bet she dumps him by the time she comes back for Christmas. You could email her."

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you… lose track of your high school friends when you left for college?"

"Yeah," Peter says, "I did. But you know, Gary and I just didn't have anything in common anymore and Linda just got swept into her new life. She was in Peru with her fiancé the last I heard from her."

"I think tonight's going down in the record as the "First Time I had a Friendly Night with Angela", even though that was not the plan, and I don't think I was ever actually friends with Topanga either. I've known her forever, but I don't think I've ever spent time with her that didn't directly involve Cory. So I think Cory's really my only high school friend."

"Well, he lives here," Peter offers, shifting onto his side and propping his head up on one arm, "You know. In this room. You're still pretty in touch with him."

"I didn't tell him that Angela called before he left," Shawn said, "He was such a pain in the ass about us not trying to do the long distance thing, and about how she's great and I should hang onto her and all this stuff. I think he feels like my deciding not to try long distance with Angela is like… a condemnation of him trying to stay with Topanga."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that," Peter says, tapping his fingers lightly against Shawn's stomach before returning his hand to his own side.

"I shouldn't tell him that I went out with Angela."

"Really?"

"I don't need to hear the speech about how I shouldn't have let her go," Shawn sighs, his voice a little ragged, "Cause I didn't. She left. She let me go," Peter replaces his hand on Shawn's stomach, "And I… I like college. I'm having a good time. I like everyone I've met. And Cory's just still… all about high school. What happened tonight was Angela and I in college. And that's okay. That's better actually."

"Yeah," Peter agrees simply.

"Plus I feel like if I tell him that something else changed he'll just flip out. If Angela moved on then he'll freak out about Topanga doing it. He'll call her more. Or he'll start harping on me about how I should get a girlfriend."

"You date all the time," Peter said.

Shawn blows a little raspberry, "Back in high school I was king. I mean really. I once racked up eight dates in a weekend," Peter laughs and his hand moves just a little, "But after Angela, back in high school and tonight, it's just not… This makes me sound like a jerk- but I could go out and date most of the girls I meet, get coffee, get Cory to actually leave the room, and finally get some action in it," Peter laughs, just a tinge of discomfort in the laugh and starts brushing his fingers against Shawn's belly, just a little back and forth as Shawn continues, "And not really worry about whether I like them or not, but I don't want to do that over and over anymore. I want someone I actually like, someone I can hang out with and talk about stupid things, or important things. I'm not really finding it. I don't really even have it with Cory right now and I miss it."

Shawn admits this and is suddenly aware of Peter's face above him, his hand set on his belly, fingers toying with his shirt, skimming over him. Peter's watching his own fingers, seemingly entranced by them. Shawn can't tell from his expression if he's surprised that he's still doing it, or if he can't believe Shawn hasn't stopped him.

"Talk about things kind of like how we're talking right now?" Peter asks.

"Um. Yeah. I guess," Shawn says. He should really stop him. There's affectionate and there's intimate and Peter is crossing that line. It's been a while, more than a month since Peter kissed him, and Shawn's certainly gotten over crushes in less time than that, but still… in case he's leading him on, he should stop him, "You know… I want someone that I can just be… comfortable with."

"Sure."

"Yeah."

Peter's slipping his fingers down Shawn's middle now, a fraction of an inch further up and further down with every stroke, slowly and cautiously and still… with just a little bit of shock in his face. Shawn needs to stop him. Having another dude gently pet your stomach should be weird and uncomfortable. Half the stuff he doesn't really notice Peter doing should be weird and uncomfortable. He's been writing it off because he and Cory have always been demonstrably affectionate and he figures Peter's just been doing the gay version of that. Peter's roommate rolls his eyes resignedly and half-heartedly swats Peter off when he gets kissed on the hair or the temple, but he never says anything about it. Shawn's just never registered it as weird.

Now Shawn and Peter are both watching Peter's hand skim back and forth across Shawn's stomach. It occurs to Shawn that if Peter was a girl he'd be kissing her by now. Someone he's totally comfortable with, someone who shares his interests and gets his sense of humor and is fun to be around… someone he's told things that he hasn't even told Cory… who is sitting on his bed, tracing a glowing warm line up and down his body…. Yeah he'd definitely have kissed that person by now.

He reaches one hand out to Peter's shoulder, and traces a finger to his neck. It's an uncomfortable, awkward movement given that Shawn's lying on his back, and he covers it by settling his palm against Peter's neck. Peter tears his gaze from his hand and looks Shawn in the eye. His pulse jumps under Shawn's palm. Neither of them moves for a moment and then the memory of reading the book Peter lent him flares up in Shawn's chest, just above Peter's hand, and it occurs to him that he could let go, sit up and they could talk about the book and it's perfect words and it's wonderful sentiment and not jump into this can of worms. In the same flare Shawn remembers one of the books most shimmering, tingling perfect sentiments- "Love. Love until the night collapses."

He slips his hand around to the back of Peter's neck, and exerts just a hint of pressure on it. Peter's face cautiously eclipses the ceiling.

Peter's hand spasms against his stomach when their lips first touch, then relaxes and smoothes over his body up to his shoulder, Peter lets his weight rest on Shawn's chest and works the kiss open a little bit, adjusting the angle as Shawn continues to slowly, experimentally kiss him.

Now it should be weird. Peter's a big, solid, masculine guy. But the slight scratch of a five o'clock shadow is just interesting, and the weight of him is unexpectedly exciting. Shawn figures, given the circumstances of the night, he can be forgiven for comparing Angela's birdlike frame and soft pliant lips and silky skin against the way Peter's hair rasps along his hands and the way his bulk is pressing Shawn down into his cheap, school-supplied, plastic mattress and the way he's gently taking charge, slowly but insistently rubbing his tongue against Shawn's and inching more of his body on top of Shawn, sliding a hand behind Shawn's head and brushing his thumb into the tender spot behind Shawn's ear.

Shawn expects him to pull back, make sure, ask the appropriate questions, but it was his book that started all this anyway, maybe he's staving off the collapse of the night too. Shawn hopes that's the case. If Peter stops then he'll have to justify, and rationalize, and label, and explain. If they just keep kissing, then everything will be fine.

He can feel Peter hard against his hip, and himself getting hard against Peter's and wonders for a second if it'll get weird if Peter undresses him. Then Peter sucks Shawn's bottom lip suddenly and Shawn's no longer that worried about it. The only sound in the room is the crinkle of the mattress underneath them and the unsteady sound of breathing.

Peter doesn't undress him, barely touches him under his clothes, and then only in response to Shawn's finger's hesitant forays across the hem of his shirt. They just kiss, sometimes faster and harder, teeth and stubble, then soft and slow, over and over until they're each watching the other, stealing a couple more kisses while they wait for something to be said and kick their tube sock feet against Shawn's pillows.

"You're a good kisser," Shawn finally offers in a husky whisper.

"Thanks. I don't exactly have your practice," Peter replies.

Shawn traces a finger along his jaw, "Maybe you're a natural." Peter smiles.

They lay there together for a little while longer, brushing fingers and lips, until Peter yawns.

"I think I'm going to go home," he says quietly.

Shawn wants him to stay, but just says "Okay."

"Okay," Peter says. But he doesn't move.

"Okay."

Peter tugs the front of Shawn's t-shirt, and kisses him again, "Okay. Really this time."

He gets up, flattens his hair down a little bit, grabs his back pack and looks around the room to see if he's forgotten anything. Shawn, feeling a little exposed now that Peter's walking around and he's still lying on his back, sits up.

Peter stoops down to kiss him again, just quickly pressing their lips together.

"Night, Shawn."

"Goodnight."

Peter leaves and Shawn makes the mental note: "First Person I Made Out with in College- Peter MacDonald- Sophmore."

Now it's kind of weird.


	3. In Which Shawn Is Confused

The first thing Cory says when he gets home from Connecticut, before he giddily announces that Topanga let him sleep in her bed with her, before his tirade of ill-feeling toward one of Topanga's male cast mates, before his description of what Topanga sleeps in, is "So I hear Angela was in town, how it go?"

"I made out with Peter," Presents itself as the answer to that question in the back of Shawn's head, he ignores it, "How did you hear about that?"

"Angela texted Topanga. She said you two went to Chubbies, then came back here," Cory waggled his eyebrows at Shawn, "So… what happened?"

"I made out with Peter," his mind answers again. He actually says, "Not much. We talked, we came back here. 520 was having a poker tournament. We dropped in."

"So you had the room to yourself, you brought Angela back to the dorms and neither of you set foot in here?" Cory demands incredulously, "What the hell happened?"

"Well, you know… I made out with Peter," The voice offers, Shawn shrugs then says, "She's seeing someone."

"Shawn" Cory sighs exasperatedly, "She came to see you- the ex. Dinner, dorm? You and Angela went out on a date. She was seeing you."

"If she'd wanted it to be a date, she probably wouldn't have mentioned her boyfriend," Shawn responded, "And I'm not that guy, Cory. I'm the guy who'll ask a girl out 3 seconds after she's broken up with the boyfriend, but I don't hit on other people's girlfriends."

"Maybe they aren't exclusive," Cory said.

"That's not how she sounded."

"I bet she dumps him by Christmas break, you should email her," Cory says.

"Yeah, that's what Peter said," Shawn tells him. Before we made out. "Then I'll wait for Christmas break. But it was nice. Just hanging out with her for a while. We had fun."

"Did I mention that I got to hang out in Topanga's bed?" Cory asks. Shawn's relieved at the tone of his voice- he's going to drop the Angela thing for at least twenty minutes, "She misses me. And she doesn't wear a bra to bed, man. I mean, she smacked my hand away, but she did roll over in her sleep."

Shawn "ooohs" sarcastically.

"Fine, mock, but you know what that is? Progress. And for the first weekend… ever- I got further than you- so neener neener, my friend."

Nope, you and Topanga probably just about tied me and Peter. Shawn's dislike for the part of his brain that keeps doing that is steadily becoming hatred.

Cory starts talking what even he must know is nonsense about how much Topanga might miss him by Christmas break and what else she might not wear to bed. Shawn gives him a mocking, slightly pitying look, but it doesn't deter him. Cory remains undeterred until there's a knock at the door.

"Yeah" Shawn calls out.

The door opens and Peter pops his head in. And now it's really weird.

"Hey I thought I'd stop by and see if you were…," He sees Cory on the other side of the door as he steps into the room, "And… uh, see if I left my shoes here."

"Your shoes?" Cory asks.

"Yeah," Peter answers, "I'm terrible about shoes. I forget them everywhere. Kicked them off during a class last May, left them there. Didn't realize till I got back to my room barefoot."

"They aren't here. You try 520?" Shawn asks. Hey, remember last night when we made out?

"Right. Duh," Peter answers, "I bet that's where they are."

Peter gives Shawn a helpless sort of look, Shawn's look in return is unmistakably frightened. Cory is looking at Peter like he's crazy.

"Okay. Well. I'll go check. It's raining. Gonna need shoes," he clears his throat, "I'll catch up with you later. When… I've got shoes. Bye."

Peter ducks out the door and Cory turns to Shawn, "He is so weird. I wouldn't walk around these hallways barefoot. He's gonna get hookworm. And athletes foot."

"He's an okay guy though," Shawn says defensively.

"For a guy with some serious personal space problems I guess," Cory shrugs. He's never warmed up to Peter after that first incident with the whiskey.

Cory and Shawn hang out for the rest of the night and Cory is finally actually hanging out with Shawn instead of hanging out with Shawn while he tries to get a hold of Topanga, but Shawn's so preoccupied with worrying about what Peter came down to talk to him about that he can't enjoy it.

Peter's not at dinner that night, and he doesn't stop by the dorm again, which is probably for the best. But then he doesn't answer his phone on Monday, and when Shawn stops by his dorm on Tuesday Jeremy doesn't know where he is. Shawn goes out walking around the neighborhood a couple of times to get some air and avoid the temptation to tell Cory what happened, which he doesn't think is a great idea- he has no idea what it means, and that's going to be the first thing Cory freaks out about. Shawn keeps telling himself that it's not that big a deal. It's college, things happen. All they did was kiss.

And if he could get a hold of Peter, and find out what he had come down to his room to say the morning after, then he might actually believe that.

When Peter's not in class Wednesday morning Shawn starts genuinely freaking out. He did this really stupid thing, he can't talk to anyone except Peter about it, Peter's avoiding him and what if Peter starts telling people about it?

Shawn knows that Peter's got another class on the other side of campus right after their math class, but he has no idea where. So he goes back to the dorm and waits for about an hour, then takes the book that Peter lent him, goes upstairs and sits in Peter's hallway.

Shawn feels like a pathetic, desperate, freak, but Peter smiles when he appears around the corner.

"Shawn! Good. I just stopped by your room looking for you. Come in."

Peter hurriedly unlocks his door and Shawn follows him in. Peter grabs his arm when the door closes behind them, "I am so so sorry for disappearing on you. I had this huge presentation and I lost my phone and you were never in your room when I stopped by. I promise I haven't been avoiding you," Peter says, all big sincere eyes, "So… how are you, Shawn?"

Pacified, confused, warm, worried about what you think of me, worried that you told someone about what happened, very aware of your hand on my arm, there's a rock in my shoe, and I want you to kiss me again.

"Fine," Shawn answers.

"Okay good," Peter says, letting Shawn go, "I was worried about you."

That one throws Shawn, "Worried about me?"

"Well... yeah," Peter shrugs, "You brought your ex-girlfriend to your dorm hall when your roommate was out of town and then you drove her home and made out with me, man," he smiles and sets a hand on his shoulder, "I remember that. It's hard."

"Oh," Shawn taps his fingers against the book he's still holding clenched to his stomach, "I… I didn't think about it that way."

"How did you think about it?"

Shawn draws a blank and goes with honesty, "I just wanted to kiss you."

Peter smiles wider, "Okay," he sets a hand on Shawn neck, "And how are you thinking about it now?"

"I…" Again with the honesty, "I have no idea."

"Okay," Peter bites his lip, "Let's try that another way- why did you come up here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Shawn tells him.

"About what happened?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay, well, I want to kiss you again. So what should we do first?"

Shawn tilts his head up and it's weird again when he realizes that he would have to get up on his toes to in order to kiss Peter. Peter leans down and steps into Shawn's body as he kisses him forcing Shawn to lean back against the door as Peter runs his hands down Shawn's chest.

"So you want to talk now?" Peter whispers.

"No," Shawn answers, just a little shakily.

Peter takes the book out of Shawn's hand and sets it on the shelf near the door, he links their fingers, leads Shawn over to his bed and pulls Shawn down on top of him.

"The Second Time I Made Out with Peter" is a lot more intense. It's the middle of the afternoon, the weakening November sun is filtering through the windows, people are walking past the door, talking loudly in the hallway and Peter is pulling his shirt up to his arm pits.

"This okay?" Peter asks quickly before Shawn sits up a little.

"Uh huh."

Peter tugs off Shawn's shirt and pulls him back down, nipping along Shawn's neck. He slides a hand under Shawn's ass and Shawn yelps with surprise as Peter hauls his whole body up with one hand.

Shawn's hard and rocking his hips down into Peter's as Peter kneads his fingers into Shawn's ass. Peter suddenly flips Shawn onto his back and runs his hand over Shawn's groin. Shawn grabs his wrist with a gasp and holds his hand away.

"Sorry," Peter pants, "I'm sorry. I thought-"

"No, no," Shawn gulps, "I just… I don't want to come in my jeans," He sighs embarrassedly.

Peter smiles, gently pulls his hand out of Shawn's grip and sets it against Shawn's chest, "Try thinking about dividing fractions."

Shawn barks out a laugh, sets his hand on top of Peter's, and waits until he's calmed down a little, then the choice in front of him rears its head, just like it did last time.

He can concentrate a little harder on fractions, sit up, talk about this, go pick up a girl, bring her back to the room, kick Cory out, date her for less than two weeks, pick up another girl, and then hope for the best when Angela came back for Thanksgiving break in two months.

Or he can slide Peter's hand back down over his cock, not worry about what happens next, not worry about Cory or Jack finding out, not worry about what it means, and enjoy being touched by someone besides himself, someone he enjoys being with, for the first time since he and Angela broke up.

"What do you want, Shawn?" Peter asks.

Shawn looks at him and pulls his hand down his body. Peter tugs his fly open and slides his hand underneath Shawn's underwear. Shawn clenches his eyes shut.

"You okay?"

"Uh huh."

Peter tugs Shawn's jeans and boxers down just a little, and Shawn realizes he probably should've helped, "Have you ever been with a guy, Shawn?

"No."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I think so."

Peter leans down to kiss him, and squeezing him as he does. Shawn moans into his mouth, legs wrapped together by the jeans he's still wearing, not even pulled half way down his thighs, and grips Peter's shirt in both hands while Peter strokes him, not unclenching until he spills over Peter's hand, embarrassed that he came that fast. And much, much more embarrassed when he looks down and realizes that he's spurted all over Peter's shirt.

"Oh, shit," Shawn pants, "Sorry, sorry about that."

Peter kisses him, "No it's okay," he brushes his hand against Shawn's cock again and Shawn gasps, still too sensitive for that, "God, you are so hot like this," Peter whispers.

Shawn shivers, breathes, then realizes that Peter is hard against his half bare leg, covered in his come and probably expecting reciprocation. He reaches down to undo Peter's fly and Peter kisses him when he doesn't get it on the first try. When Shawn's gotten him unbuttoned and unzipped Peter lifts his hips, pulls his jeans and boxers off himself and drops them to the floor.

Shawn strokes him, his eyes flitting between his face and his cock, drawing comparisons he never thought he'd be drawing while half naked in bed. Peter's bigger than he is, shaped surprisingly differently, and Shawn's not totally sure, but thinks he might have trimmed. Peter tips his face up and kisses him again.

Shawn lays back after he gets Peter off. Peter grabs some kleenexes off the window sill and mops Shawn up before trying to clean himself off as best he can. He carefully pulls off his shirt, wraps it up so he doesn't mess anything else up and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Shawn pulls his pants back up, and lies back against the pillows.

"So… do you want to talk now?" Peter asks after a moment, a faint smile on his face.

"Okay."

Neither of them says anything for a while, and Peter finally chuckles.

"Sorry," Shawn responds, "I just… I don't know what to say."

Peter brushes his hand over Shawn's cheek, "I'm not going to tell Cory."

Shawn lets go of a breath he's been holding since Peter undid his fly, "Thank you."

"Sure."

"I can't figure out why I'm doing this," Shawn says, "Would it sound ridiculous if I told you I'm sure I'm not gay?"

"No," Peter says calmly, "You could be bi."

"I don't know."

"You could be overwhelmed by my animal magnetism."

"Well, obviously," Shawn smiles shyly.

"You don't have to figure this out right now, Shawn."

"Okay."

They lay together for a little while longer before Shawn asks, "So… why are you doing this Peter?"

"Because you are sweet and funny and gorgeous and I've had a big squishy crush on you since you sat down in front of me, opened up Attersen's 'Everyday Mathematics for Everyone' and said 'Stupid numbers,'" Peter says, scooting his naked body closer to Shawn's fully clothed one.

"Big squishy crush, huh?"

"The squishiest."

"You're not worried I'm just some stupid freshman, who's gonna wake up tomorrow and go 'What the hell was I thinking?' and pick up the first chick I see in the hallway?"

"Are you worried that you're just some stupid freshman who's gonna wake up tomorrow, go 'What the hell was I thinking?' and pick up the first chick you see in the hallway?" Peter asked.

"A little bit."

"If you do will you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Break it to me gently and don't turn into some big macho jerk about it."

"I promise."

"Good."

There's a small pause where Shawn works it out.

"That's happened to you before huh?"

Peter sighs, "Did I ever tell you that I'm here on a basketball scholarship?"

Shawn figures that Peter's changing the subject. That's fine. It was a personal question, "No," he answers, then wonders if he was supposed to be impressed.

"Yeah, well. You were king of the dating game, I was star of the basketball team. My brothers all played, they 'd been teaching me how since I figured out I was supposed to hold the ball not chew on it. I made 1st string freshman year, came out of the closet right afterward. It was just me and this girl Olive in the whole school who were out, she caught hell from a couple people, but I missed two 3-pointers the entire four years I played so no one on the team ever said shit to me. Anyway, my sophomore year we made it to state finals in Philadelphia, and we're all excited to run around the city and try not to get murdered-" Shawn laughs, "And we get to stay in this huge hotel with this awesome pool. So the whole team's in the pool, and after a while I decide to go back to my room because I'm exhausted. And I get up there and Coleman, he was a senior and the point guard, is waiting for me in my room in his underwear. And he comes up to me all weird, and just grabs my crotch. We fooled around for a while, but he wouldn't let me kiss him, which I thought was kind of weird, but I was so excited that there was finally someone else that I didn't push it right? And then he panicked and left and we played the game and we came second by like 5 points, whatever. So we get back to school Monday and the team goes down to clear out their lockers after school. And I get to mine and the whole lock part is stuff with razorblades."

Shawn doesn't know what to say. After a moment's hesitation he closes the small distance between him and Peter and lays his palm flat across Peter's stomach.

"So I can't get into my locker, my hand's all sliced up, the whole team knows why someone would pick me, and I know it was Coleman, but I can't say anything and then the dumb fucker goes 'Careful everybody- fag blood- don't touch it.'"

"What did you do?" Shawn asks.

"Probably the stupidest thing I've ever done," Peter sighs, "I grabbed his hair, rammed his face right into the locker door, sliced up his cheek and then ran my bloody hand over it. Then, still holding him by the hair by the way, I turn to the rest of the team and go 'Anything else you guys need to say to me?'"

"Oh my god."

"I know. The only reason I didn't get expelled is because my older brother Mark was assistant coaching and the rest of the team was afraid I'd quit. When Coleman tried to do something about it most of the team were suspiciously unable to remember having been there."

Shawn wraps a hand around Peter's cheek and kisses him with even more affection than he'd felt for him 20 minutes ago, then sets his hand back on Peter's stomach, Peter starts playing idly with his fingers. After a few silent moments Shawn sets his cheek to Peter's shoulder and tells him about his mother abandoning him, and then his father abandoning him and then having to live with his English teacher, who said he'd adopted him, but then turned out to never have filled out the paperwork.

"Holy shit," Peter says after he's become 'First Person At College I Told about My Rotten Childhood', "Your story just kicked my story in the crotch so hard it threw up a little bit."

Shawn's phone rings, Cory wants to get dinner and is wondering where the hell he is. They get dressed, kiss at the door and go get Cory. Cory spends dinner announcing that Topanga just happened to let slip that in the play she's in, her character, and the character of her friend, the guy that Cory hates, kiss. Cory's pissed.

While Cory rants and rails, Peter nudges his foot up to Shawn's under the table and leaves it there.


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn's bladder slowly nudges him awake in the painfully early hours of Saturday morning. He tries to slip back into sleep but doesn't manage it and reluctantly opens his eyes.

It's so early it's still dark. Peter's alarm clock seers 4:45AM greenly into black of his room and Shawn carefully shifts out from under Peter's arm, hanging heavily over him. He maneuvers clumsily in the unfamiliar room as he tries to find his discarded clothes and manages a shirt and jeans. He pulls them on quickly and stumbles down the hallway to the bathroom.

While washing his hands in the bathroom he catches sight of himself in the mirror. Tousled hair, red cheeks. Puffy sleep eyes.

Big purple hickey on his neck.

He cranes his neck trying to see all of it, gives up and flattens his hair down a little.

"Boyfriend," he says quietly into the fluorescent buzzing of the bathroom, "Boyfriend."

It sounds strange.

"I have…" stranger now, but it's the first time he's ever said it, "A boyfriend. Boyfriend. I have a boyfriend."

He extends his hand to his own reflection, "Hi, I'm Shawn Hunter and this is my boyfriend Peter," Shawn says. He realizes that he's whispering it. He sighs and examines his hickey again.

It may be hard to say, but the weirdest part is actually how easily it all came together. It's only been two weeks since the first time he and Peter made out. There's been no drama, no dumping and getting back together, no one's been abandoned, or fallen in love with an inanimate object. And Peter's really good to him. If only he were a girl this would all be so simple and easy and perfect.

"Cory, Peter is my…"

But it's not exactly simple easy perfect.

Peter's been great about that too. Last Friday Peter had ditched the class he had after their math class and he and Shawn had walked home together. At the door Peter had mentioned that Jeremy had a student council meeting for a couple hours and Shawn had smiled at him and asked how long those went. Peter had grinned back, wrapped a hand around Shawn's waist and replied, "Long enough."

Shawn hadn't meant to do it, and had even stopped halfway through the movement, but he'd pulled out of Peter's grip and quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen them.

Peter had apologized and Shawn had stammered that it was fine and Peter had replied, "No. It's not. Not yet. That's okay."

They'd walked upstairs like nothing was different from when they'd walked the same hallway last week and attacked each other once the door was locked.

But they had still just been…fooling around until about four days ago when Peter had, being unusually shy for Peter, asked Shawn if it would be weird if they went out on a date. Shawn had immediately responded that it wouldn't be weird at all Peter had asked if he wanted to go out for dinner and the "two tickets for the price of one" date night special at the cheap seat theater on 5th street on Friday night. Shawn had said yes.

But he hadn't been sure about the idea. The cheap seat theater on 5th was a popular destination, and they were garuanteed to run into someone that knew them. Shawn had worried about it and tried to keep himself from worrying about it until he had finally broken down Thursday after dinner and asked Peter if they could find a theater a little further from campus. Peter had agreed.

Friday night, D-night, Shawn had told Cory that he was going to some sort of event for class, and gone up to meet Peter at his door, gritting his teeth and trying to steel himself for a night that was probably going to be weird after all.

But, it turned out, Jeremy had decided (or possibly been asked) to spend the night at his girlfriend's apartment and Peter had ordered Chinese food and rented a movie. He'd said he wanted Shawn to actually be able to relax on their first date. Shawn had tried not to look too relieved.

Shawn has to admit… this is turning out to be one of his more promising relationship beginnings. He's the pursued, not the pursuer, and unlike every other relationship he's ever had, Peter doesn't expect him to prove anything. He doesn't have to prove he's a nice enough guy like with Dana Pruitt, he doesn't have to fight for a second chance, like with Angela. Peter just likes him. Shawn just likes Peter. It's a big new thing for him to have a relationship that takes a couple weeks to start instead of a couple weeks to end.

And while normally that would be enough to scare Shawn into waiting for the other shoe to drop, The fact is that he is standing in the bathroom two floors up from his, stomach dropping as he tries to think of any way he can hide a hickey this big from Cory, and has just realized he is actually wearing another man's pants. The shoes are dropped. The cards on the table. The metaphors are all on his side.

Shawn rubs his eyes and goes back to Peter's room. He starts trying to find another hunk of denim with his bare feet. He can't go back to his room in Peter's pants. Even Cory's not that stupid.

"Shawn?" Peter mutters, "Shawn what's up?"

"Nothing," Shawn sighed.

"Come back to bed."

"I was going to sneak back to my room, I've got to find something to hide this hickey with before Cory wakes up."

"I've got a scarf," Peter swung a searching hand out, catching Shawn at the knee and fumbling his way up to Shawn's hand, "Come back."

"I can't walk around in a scarf all day."

"You can," Peter insisted, still sleepy and warm, tugging Shawn back over to the bed, "It's college. You're a 'll be… baja or whatever."

"Baja?"

"Yeah… that whole… dirty California thing… like hippies."

"Boho?"

"If that's what it takes to get you back in bed, sure," Peter yawns. Shawn glances at the clock.

"What am I going to tell Cory?"

"What are you going to tell him if you get home at 5 am with a hickey?" Peter asks softly.

Shawn sighs and tugs the jeans off. He leaves his shirt on and curls back up next to Peter.

"I'm sorry," he sighs.

"For what?"

"For not being… for not being able to go out tonight."

Peter fumbles his hand over Shawn's face for a moment before find his chin and pulling Shawn's lips to his, "Staying in worked just fine for me," he kisses Shawn again, "You'll get there, man. It's been two weeks."

Shawn feels the warm sinking comfortably through his body out from his stomach and kisses Peter back.

_My boyfriend's so sweet._

It doesn't sound strange when he thinks it this time.

Shawn gets up again at seven, Peter helps him find all of his clothes and gives him a scarf that is way girlier than anything he expected Peter to have. Shawn had been expecting something like a winter scarf, and Peter hands him a light way black and white hounds tooth thing with fringe. Peter answers Shawn's questioning look with "It's Jeremy's. He won't mind… well, he will, but I'll deal with him."

Shawn wraps it around his neck, kisses Peter at the door and goes downstairs. He slips into his and Cory's room, trying to let as little light as possible into it and digs through his drawers as silently as possible for a tighter black t-shirt and some old worn jeans.

He carries them to the bathroom and changes. He looks completely ridiculous, but it's a big hickey and there's nothing for it. He sneaks back into the room, grabs his back pack and sneaks back out.

He walks a couple blocks out to a coffee shop, orders some breakfast, pulls out the book for the class he's got a test in later in the week and starts working on an alibi.

* * *

Cory wakes up to an empty dorm and tries to remember where exactly Shawn said he was going last night… it was something for class, but Cory's not sure he mentioned which one. Cory wonders if he should worry, but it's not exactly unlike Shawn not to come back to the room, or even to be gone by now. Cory feels like he hasn't seen Shawn in weeks. Shawn's probably asleep in the bed of some girl whose last name he didn't catch right now. Being self destructive. He couldn't have just e-mailed Angela.

Cory has been trying really hard for the last couple of months not to admit this to himself, because it feels like blasphemy- but he hates college. He knows he isn't supposed to. College is the plan, college is what high school was for. He needs college so he can get a good job and he and Topanga can support their family. College is the goal he has been working toward for 12 years and the next part of the goal he's working on for the rest of his life.

But if he's honest with himself, he's really unhappy. His classes aren't inspiring and mind opening, they're exhausting and dull. The food's awful. Topanga's a million miles away and Shawn in his one of his bizarre moods where he pulls away from everything and tries to "grow" and winds up snapping. Cory is just a little afraid that he'll run away again.

Cory gets out of bed, stretches and decides that he's going to see if he can get Shawn to go get a burger or something with him tonight. There's a malt shop across town that's… not Chubbies, but close enough. It would be nice to have a conversation with Shawn without his weird friend Peter around.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Shawn finally gives up and goes back to his and Cory's room after its become perfectly clear that he can't study when all he can think about is Peter's body pressing against his and all the bad that can possibly come from Cory ever finding out about it. As he jitters up the stairs his phone dings. He pulls it out of his pocket and flips it open. It's a text from Peter.

_I just woke up. My sheets smell like you. Sorry about your neck._

Shawn feels the idiot-ass grin spreading over his face like a tidal wave and he can't do anything to stop it.

Cory's in the room when he gets there, he asks him about the scarf. Shawn tells him the meaningless truth. He got it this morning. It was cold. He kinda liked the look of it. He flops down on his bed to take a nap. Peter texts him again.

_Jeremy just walked in and alerted me to the marks on my neck. Apology revoked._

Shawn rolls over so his back is facing Cory and texts back,

_Your sheets could smell like me tomorrow too._

_Jeremy's not leaving twice._

_Cory doesn't leave at all._

_We'll think of something._

Cory asks him who he's texting, and without thinking, Shawn replies, "Angela."

"Since when are you and Angela texting?"

Shawn sighs and rolls back over, "Since just now when I laid down. It's not a big deal."

Cory sighs, "Really? She comes back to see you, she texts you, and you really think that doesn't mean anything?"

"Yes. Please. I'm begging you. Do not make this into a thing."

Cory holds his hands out in front of him in surrender, "Okay. I'm giving up on the Angela thing."

Shawn sighs, "Really?"

"We'll see."

Shawn sighs and rolls back over, cursing his stupid mouth, and Cory, and just a little bit Angela even though she doesn't deserve it.

"Hey, Shawn?"

"What, Cory?"

"You want to go get dinner with me tonight?"

"Yeah, I've still got a meal left at the cafeteria for the week."

"I was thinking something more like that burger place by the old movie theater?"

"I don't know. I'm kind of burgered out for the week."

Cory sighs, "Look man, I just feel like I haven't seen you in weeks. Are you pissed at me?"

Shawn lifts his head, "No. Of course not," It's not really a lie. He's not pissed, he's just annoyed. He's not avoiding Cory because he's mad, he just has other things going on right now, "Burgers. Count me in. If I'm not up by five wake me up," Shawn rolls over again and pulls his covers over himself this time, "Make it six."

"What were you out so late doing?"

"Oh… I ended up at a movie with people from class. Got some food. Wound up in someone else's dorm, and just stayed there when it got late," Shawn yawned . Again. So close to the truth.

Cory wakes him up at 5:30 and they go out for the only awkward meal they've ever had together. Cory doesn't actually do anything and Shawn can't tell him anything he's doing. Their attempt at having a conversation devolves into recounting old high schools stories, which isn't so bad and sitting in silence, which is. Shawn comes up with a couple more creative truths for where he's been all week. Why he wasn't in the library before class on Wednesday when Cory went to look for him- "Got caught up with another project on the other side of the library" becomes code for "was necking with Peter in the secret spot under the stairwell". "Just missed you at dinner" is the kindest way to avoid saying, "I went half an hour later with Peter and some of his friends so I didn't have to hear you whine about Topanga." He spends the pauses in the conversation tugging at his scarf absentmindedly and then realizing what he's doing and trying to surreptitiously check to make sure he hasn't accidently pulled the scarf below the hickey layer.

When the conversation lulls, Cory brings up Topanga, and Shawn's about to cut him off and ask if they can talk about fucking anything else, when Cory shifts seamlessly into Thanksgiving and asks what he thinks about the three of them calling up Angela and doing something all together or if it would be weird since Angela's dating someone else and he isn't.

This not telling Cory thing shouldn't be this much of a bitch so early on, Shawn thinks to himself, taking a huge bite out of his hamburger.

"No, it's not weird," Shawn tells him. Cory whips out his phone and texts Topanga. Shawn looks at it with annoyance. His phone's already gone off three times and he hasn't been able to answer it for fear of Cory flipping out.

The waitress comes around and asks if they're going to get dessert and Shawn says no immediately. His lame excuse is that he's exhausted. It's true, it's just lame. Cory nods and they go back home. As soon as they get back to their room Shawn goes to the bathroom and checks his phone. All three of the texts are from Peter, the first two are suggestions for things he can wear around his neck for the next couple days. Turtleneck, bandana, feather boa, dog collar, popped collar, space helmet, and an entire bottle of concealer. The third text suggests he not wear a feather boa tomorrow because that's what Peter's going to wear, and an apology for the fact that Peter's going to be bailing on him for the rest of the night and most of tomorrow because he pushed off his part of a group project and forgot the meeting was tomorrow.

Shawn's about to reply something about he just knew Peter had a feather boa hidden away somewhere when he gets another text. He opens it with the same stupid grin he had while reading all of the other texts, but this one's from Jack. He's got a girl coming over to hang out and is belligerently demanding the return of a movie that he lent Shawn weeks ago. Shawn sighs, goes back to the room, grabs it and takes off again.

Jack opens the door wearing the dressiest thing anyone has ever not worn to a funeral. Long sleeve button down white shirt, tie, black dress pants and detailed leathered shoes. Shawn gives him a skeptical once over.

"Okay… what the hell is with all this?" He asks, waving a hand at Jack, "What the hell lie did you come up with that made this necessary?"

"I told her I got an internship before I actually did and then didn't get it. I'm going to fake it tonight and then hope she thought trying to impress her was cute," Jack explains before pulling the movie out of Shawn's hands, "What the hell happened to you? You look like you got run over by a Cold Play album driving a Ragstock."

"I got it this morning," Shawn tugs at his scarf defensively, "It was cold. It's college. I'm trying something."

"Well, if you're trying to look like a douche, you're rocking it," Jack sighs, already setting the movie up to play.

Eric trots in from his room, stops at the stairs, points into the living room at the two of them and laughs.

"Well at least I'm not lying about being impressive," Shawn sighs, walking past Jack into the kitchen and digging into the drawer he knows Eric keeps full of M&M's. Logically it was always a good place for a silverware drawer, but for some reason Eric had gotten his M&M's in there to claim it and now nothing could be done. It would also be logical to have bags of M&M's rather than just a full drawer of them, but after a year of living with Eric you learned to give up on logic.

Eric's finger and scornful laughter follow Shawn across the apartment.

"What, Eric?"

"That's a hickey scarf."

Shawn can't help it. His hand flies to his throat before he manages an already unconvincing, "No it isn't."

"Hickey scarf, hickey scarf, hickey scarf," Eric sing songs as Jack advances on Shawn.

"Come on, let's see it," Jack grins mockingly.

"No."

Shawn steps back away from Jack and right into Eric, who's looped his hands through the banister and grabs hold of the scarf. He pulls it off in one fluid movement, leaving Shawn bare necked in the kitchen.

Eric whistles.

"Dude," Jack laughs, "What did you let this girl do to you?"

Eric hops over the banister and holds his hands up to Shawn's neck, as though making measurements to work off of later.

Shawn tries out a charming grin and wraps his lady-killer middle school persona protectively around himself. He shrugs, "I didn't even get her name. These college girls are crazy."

Jack grins at him. Eric shakes his head seriously.

"I'm calling bullshit. Based on size, color and neck distribution these are "Relationship just starting to turn serious" hickeys," Eric announces, Jack's eyes shift from giving Shawn an encouraging look to giving Eric an absorbed one, "Lift up your shirt."

"I'm not gonna-" Shawn starts but Eric's got his shirt pulled up to his chin already and is poking at the couple big bruises on his chest, "Okay."

"And you aren't having sex yet."

"How do you figure that?" Jack asks seriously, standing next to Eric and peering at Shawn in the same studious way now.

"Too high up on the chest," Eric answers. He draws a line across Shawn's middle rib with his finger, "Basically anything above here, would indicate that you haven't talked about it yet, below here in this general area," Eric pokes Shawn in his lower stomach, "Would indicate that the "Do you wanna" conversation happened, and no hickeys on the chest at all would indicate that you actually got some."

Eric lets go of his shirt.

"So who is this starting to get serious person?" Eric asks.

Shawn tugs his shirt back down, pulls his scarf back out of Eric's hands and wraps it around his neck again.

"Nice theory Eric, Shawn says, "But I'm taking a break from serious girlfriends after Angela."

He's getting good at this not actually lying thing.

"Who is this casual girl then?" Jack asks.

"I'm not going to tell you. I don't need you… doing any more examinations," Shawn sighs, "Jack, enjoy your movie, you look like a wall street bell ringer, Eric… you're bizarre."

Shawn hurries out of the apartment.

Jack sidles over to Eric, "That was weird. Shawn's never squirrely about girls."

"Unless he really likes them," Eric says, digging into the M&M drawer himself.

"Do you think he really likes her?"

"Well, I'd have to see the marks on them to be sure," Eric says, "But I think he really does."

"I'll ask Cory who it is tomorrow," Jack sighs, "I'm hoping to get my own hickeys tonight and I've got a door to wait outside of."

Eric nods and slaps Jack on the arm fraternally before Jack heads for the door.

"Hey Jack?"

"What?"

"Does Shawn wear cologne?"

"No. I don't think so. Why?"

"No reason."


	6. Chapter 6

Shawn's biggest worry about telling Cory that he's dating Peter is that Cory is going to lose his shit over whether or not Shawn is gay and Shawn's answer to that- I don't know what I'm doing- isn't going to be anything Cory wants to hear. And Shawn's not convinced that Peter's "You don't have to figure this out right now" doesn't have a time limit.

Hiding Peter is getting harder and harder too. Peter had already stepped in big time with Jack. It turned out that the partner project Peter had been making out with Shawn instead of working on was for a lit class project he had with Jack. Jack had luckily happened to mention that he was going to talk to Cory about who Shawn was seeing and Peter had told him that Cory didn't know, but now Jack has realized that Peter his partner in lit class and Peter his brother's friend are the same person, and Shawn's worried that Jack's going to add "Shawn's got hickies" to "Shawn's friend Peter has hickies" top it off with a dash of "Cory doesn't know" and wind up with some no-longer-a-secret pie.

His second biggest worry is that this relationship is flourishing because of the circumstances of secrecy and that letting it… out of the closet, is going to hurt it. No one knowing is working out. He doesn't have Cory and Topanga butting into his life like the parents he never had or the guardian he once did, he doesn't have any ex-girlfriends around to judge and evaluate, and he even has less baggage to bring into this relationship. Sure he's had relationships, but somehow his past experiences as a boyfriend aren't translating into relationship. It's different and that's working.

And his third worry is the obvious fact that Peter and Cory don't like each other. At first he thought that he was imagining the look that Cory gave Peter when Shawn and Peter were hanging out in the dorm, or having lunch together. He was pretty sure that he was misreading the tone that Peter used when Cory came up in conversation, but a couple of dinners that Cory had joined this last week had proven that his worries weren't unfounded.

Shawn and Peter are in Shawn's room that Friday night, Cory's at Yale for the weekend, to see Topanga's play. He'd actually invited Shawn to come along, but Shawn had pretended to think about it and then shot him down. Shakespeare performed by pretentious people who analyzed better than they acted, followed by a night sleeping on a couch in a lounge somewhere so that Cory could try to grope Topanga was way more lying than Shawn could take right now. And having Cory gone meant Peter and Shawn had the dorm to themselves, guaranteed from Thursday night to Sunday evening. There was no way Shawn was giving that up.

Peter's lying against Shawn's headboard, Shawn's leaning against his chest, his arm wrapped around the arm Peter has wrapped around him. They're listening to an old radio play that Peter found a tape of at the library. They reach the end of a scene, Peter reaches over and switches it off, and kisses Shawn behind the ear.

"Tonight was nice," Peter hums, wrapping his arm a little tighter around Shawn, "I like being able to show you off."

That first order-in-dinner and rental movie had been so sweet Shawn had started looking for somewhere he could go out with Peter where he wouldn't feel exposed. They'd managed a movie, sitting in a sparse area of the audience and holding hands in the dark, and while Peter hadn't said anything, Shawn had realized it wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for. So he'd gone out looking for something and found a little coffee shop clear on the other side of town that was… unobtrusively gay friendly. They had great desserts and live music on Fridays. He'd bought Peter dessert, they'd sat close together and held hands. Peter had even kissed him. They hadn't seen anyone they'd known, and no one had stared. It had been perfect.

"Yeah," Shawn agrees sleepily.

"So…" Peter starts, in a way that means he's going to bring up something he's pretty sure Shawn doesn't want to hear, "I was checking out some of the postings at that coffee shop while you were in the bathroom."

"Uh huh?"

"They're hosting a poetry open mic night in two weeks."

"No," Shawn says, gently, but immediately.

"What if we just went to check this one out, and if it's cool, you could read one?"

"No."

"What if we just go for fun and you just bring a poem along just in case?"

"Peter, no," Shawn says, firm and unrelenting now.

Peter sighs so deeply Shawn rocks on his chest, "Okay fine. What if we just go for the sake of going, you don't even bring a poem, and I drop this?"

"That sounds great," Shawn says, "Let's do that."

"Why doesn't Cory know that you write?"

Because he would force this conversation more often than you do and would probably steal my notebook and try to get one of them published, Shawn thinks, "It's not a secret, it's just never come up."

Peter leaves a silence there, and Shawn finds himself tripping and falling into it, "He wouldn't get it. "

Peter makes the disapproving noise he makes a lot when Cory comes up in conversation. Shawn shrugs. Peter's gotten his concern out of the way, and now Shawn can't help but voice his, "Peter? Does Jeremy know we're together?"

"Yes," Peter says.

Shawn evaluates how he feels about this for a quiet moment. Jeremy and Peter were pretty close, and despite Jeremy's aggressively uninterested and aloof persona, he obviously put some effort into helping Peter out. He spent a lot of weekends and oddly convenient afternoons "just, you know… out. Around. Getting some air. What do you care?"

"Oh," Shawn says.

"I wasn't going to lie to him. It's not like he'd say anything. And he figured it out on his own."

"Well, I was walking around in his scarf."

"Bingo," Peter says, slipping his hand up Shawn's chest a little ways, "You okay with that?"

"Yeah…" Shawn says, and he's a little surprised that he actually does mean it, "I mean… he was always going to figure it out."

"It's kind of nice to have someone know, right?"

"Yeah," Shawn says, "I'm kind of… warming up to the idea of telling someone."

"Cory?"

"No," Shawn says.

"Who?"

"I'm not sure," Shawn says, "Jack maybe. I just… I finally feel like…"

"The world won't end," Peter supplies.

"Yeah."

Peter runs his hands back down Shawn's body, over his hip bones, back up to his stomach, and sets his mouth to Shawn's neck, Shawn tilts his head playfully out of Peter's range.

"Hey, the last ones haven't quite healed yet."

Peter smacks his lips a little, "Are you wearing concealer? You taste… powdery."

"Yeah," Shawn laughs, "I went out and bought some. The cashier laughed at me and got me a different shade."

"Then, I just have to suck somewhere else," Peter says warmly, Shawn stiffens a little in surprise and Peter sets his head to the back of Shawn's and snorts, "Sorry, that's not what I meant."

It's a month in, and neither of them have brought up moving any further physically. Shawn kind of wonders about that. He's gotten blown by pretty much every girl he's gone out with since the 9th grade and a solid hunk of those relationships only lasted a week. He would have thought, before he started dating a man, that two men wouldn't have qualms about diving in, but Peter seems perfectly happy with the pace they're going at, and Shawn… well, it isn't like he hasn't thought about it. He can't not think about it when Peter squeezes him  _just so_ , or touches him  _just there_ , and the fact that he's with someone who knows how all those things feel is flashing neon in his mind. He wants to know what Peter's lips around him would feel like, he just blanks a little on what his lips around Peter would feel like.

Peter moves his mouth up Shawn's neck, just dragging his warm lips along the tendon.

"Take this off," Peter whispers, tugging at the front of Shawn's T-shirt. He lets go long enough for Shawn to slip the shirt over his head and pulls him back against chest. Peter teases his tongue around the shell of Shawn's ear and moves his thumb up between Shawn's lips. Shawn licks it and Peter moves his hand back down to rub small, wet, chilly circles around his nipples.

Shawn lets the relaxed arousal wash over him as Peter takes over, touching him, tonguing him, rubbing his hardening cock lazily against Shawn's back. He slips his hand over the bulge in Shawn's jeans.

"Now these," he whispers.

Shawn takes off his pants and boxers, and kicks them off the end of the bed.

"Close your eyes," Peter says, "Just think about my skin on yours."

Shawn settles back against Peter's chest and does just that.

Peter makes it last forever, coaxing Shawn up slowly, swapping back and forth between speed and pressure, building both up by fractions while Shawn concentrates on every inch of warm, hairy skin pressed against him. Peter's big hand around his cock while the other slips underneath his balls, massaging the skin between his legs, a spot much more sensitive than Shawn would have suspected.

When he finally comes he can feel that blissful sensation flood his body and hold. Usually it feels like a lightning strike, but this is more like a nightlight glow. Peter tilts his head and kisses him until he recovers.

* * *

Cory comes back a little earlier than he said he would on Sunday and catches Shawn and Peter in the hallway on their way to dinner. He drops his bag in the room and follows them to the cafeteria.

The weekend was always going to end abruptly, with Cory's return from Connecticut, but Shawn feels a lot more cheated of that perfect end to his perfect weekend than he'd thought he would when he'd waved Cory out of the room Thursday night.

Dinner was weird. Shawn, his secret boyfriend and his oh-so oblivious best friend, who was recounting his entire weekend with his girlfriend, while having no clue that he was quashing the end of another romantic weekend.

He tells them about the play, about going out to the park to look at the leaves Friday afternoon, about the restaurant he took Topanga too, and about how he got Topanga a bouquet of roses and how he asked her roommate to put one of them on her pillow.

"So she sees it, and she smiles and she kisses me and then she's like… you know really kissing me and…" Cory casts a weird sort of look at Peter, "I'll tell you later."

"You can tell him now," Peter says. He's got an annoyed bored edge to his voice, Shawn can see that Cory's noticed it.

"I don't know, it doesn't seem like the kind of thing you say about your girlfriend to a dude you barely know."

Peter points at himself with his fork, "Gay. Not exactly getting my jollies from your locker room talk. Besides, I don't even know her. Don't you think Shawn getting the full story would bother her more?"

"Shawn's my best friend, Topanga knows I'm going to talk to him. She's talked to Angela about me."

Normally this would be the point in the conversation where Shawn would razz Cory about Topanga not actually having anything to say to Angela about him, but there's a very fine line being walked in this conversation he hasn't joined yet, and if he shoots Cory in the ego right now he's going to firmly be planting himself on Peter's side of that line.

"Speaking of Angela, have you heard from her this weekend?"

"Remember the last time we talked about this," Shawn said slowly, "When you promised you were going to drop the Angela thing?"

"I'm just asking."

"He's just answering," Peter responded.

Cory purses his lips and gives Peter a withering look. In his mind Shawn scrambles for a topic to derail whatever the fuck is going on between Peter and Cory.

He can't come up with anything to talk to Cory about.

His glance shifts to Peter, who gives him a tight, somewhat apologetic smile.

"I hung out with Angela," he offers, "She seems like a pretty cool girl."

"Yeah," Cory apparently accepts that Peter's backing down, "And the story of how they met is so romantic," he waves his fork between Peter and Shawn, "Has Shawn told you about it?"

Peter shakes his head.

"Come on Shawn," Cory says, "Tell him."

For the first time in years, Shawn kind of wants to kill Cory, "I don't think Peter wants to hear it."

"Tell it."

"It's fine," Peter says, "I'd like to hear it."

Shawn tells the story to his mashed potatoes, trying to skim through details that Cory then goes back and fills in. Peter nods a lot. It should be less weird to tell Peter about Angela. They've talked about Angela. Peter has hung out with Angela. A month ago Peter was still trying to set him up with girls. It's still weird.

Shawn gets up to dump off his tray the second he's cleaned it, he and Peter's original plan for desert had been to steal some cake and coffee cups from the cafeteria and head back to the room with them. With Cory along for the ride they just skip it and the three of them walk back to the room together. Not talking.

At his and Cory's door, Shawn invents a book he forgot in Peter's room, and he and Peter go up to get it.

"How am I supposed to tell him about us if you can't get along?" Shawn demands as soon as they get back to Peter's room.

"I know. I'm sorry," Peter sighs, "He's just such a tool."

Shawn sighs, "Okay, fine, a little, but he's really great once you get to know him. And he's my best friend and the two of you have to get along!"

"Are you going to have this conversation with him?"

"I can't tell him yet!" Shawn doesn't really shout it, he almost does.

"Not that," Peter sighs, "I swear, I'm really not pushing that yet," he swept a hand over Shawn's shoulder briefly, "You tell him when you're ready to tell him. Though it would be outright spiffy if you could tell someone."

"You just said-"

"I didn't-" Peter growls a little, "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry- I just… as long as you have to hide me, time I'm spending with you AND Cory is basically time I'm not spending with you, time I'm not spending with my own friends, and basketball season is starting soon. Time's going to be hard to come by. And I want to give him a chance, I do, but… " Peter sighs and rakes his fingers into his hair, "Look, he clearly doesn't like me either. I'm willing to wipe the slate clean and forget that the first time he met me he threw me out of your room by the neck-"

"He thought you'd gotten me drunk-"

"-And made you do something crazy," Peter finishes. His eyes go hard at that and Shawn wonders how much of an uphill battle "Cory and Peter Getting Along" is really going to be, "But if he can't start at square one with me too… I don't know how this is going to work. So… what I'm trying to say is that you are going to have to talk to him about getting along with me too."

"I will," Shawn promises, "I'll figure out what his problem is."

"I'm starting to think I know what his problem is."

"And what is that."

"Cory's not really down with gay people is he?"

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

Shawn stops. Peter looks like that was the answer he expected.

"I don't know," Shawn admits. Sure, Cory's dressed up like a girl and sent Shawn out to investigate dating a man before… but there were a couple times in high school, where he'd… done a voice… made a crack.

"I'm pretty much past the point in my life, where I'm going to go out of my way to make people like me  _despite_  what I am, Shawn."

"He doesn't know any gay people."

"Except me."

Shawn sighs and throws up his hands, in defeat. Peter sighs.

"Talk to him. I'll give it a shot."

"Peter?" Shawn tip toes up to kiss him, "Is this our first fight?"

"I'm not sure yet," Peter says. He kisses Shawn back, "Go talk to your bro."

"Right," Shawn pulls away and starts for the door, "Oh, book. I need a book."

Peter tosses him something off his shelf. It's the Neruda book. Shawn slips back downstairs with it, noticing outside his and Cory's door that that's a dog-eared page that wasn't there before. He flips it open. He recognizes the poem. It implores him to love until the night collapses. It doesn't seem as hopeful this time.

He sits in the room with Cory for a while, Cory gleefully tells him that he inched a little further ahead with Topanga. There was some over the bra action. Shawn wonders for a second in the back of his head if Topanga's gay, but dismisses the thought immediately. Cory finishes his detailed account of his weekend, and asks Shawn about his. Shawn shrugs.

"Not a lot. Hung out with Peter."

Cory makes the same disapproving noise that Peter makes about him and Shawn just can't face having this conversation with him right now. Cory dives into the homework he put off all weekend and Shawn tells Cory he's going to go get some coffee.

He goes out onto the deserted campus mall, zips his jacket up all the way, and pulls out his phone, praying the call will get answered this late on a Sunday.

"Hey… Shawn. Um, what's up?"

"Hey Angela…" Shawn says, and freezes up, he didn't think further than this, "I just… I need to talk to someone… and I can't… tell Cory. I couldn't think of anyone else to call."

"Shawn, are you okay?"

Shawn takes a deep breath. And Angela becomes the first person he tells about Peter.

 


	7. In Which Shawn Makes A Phone Call

Eric places himself strategically. He must be able to do the seeing, but not be seen. Should he be discovered it will not only impede his chances of gathering more information about Shawn's secret relationship, but he'll have to explain how he found out that this tree out on the mall is hollow and he has suspicions that the government would "take care of him" for that.

He's been undercover all weekend, reconnaissance mission. This Shawn and boyfriend thing is the perfect way to show Rachel he's more sensitive and secure than Jack. He's so close to figuring out a way to help Shawn… in front of Rachel, thus winning her heart and everlasting affection and, he suspects… somewhat naughty underpinnings.

He leans back against the inside of the tree truck at an angle that allows him to see through the small knot hole and listens.

* * *

"Umm… Wow," Angela says after a moment of dead air, "That's…And Cory doesn't know?"

"In my shoes would Cory be the first person you told?"

"Yeah, actually. You're still you. Cory loves you. Why wouldn't you tell  _him_  before, you know,  _me_?"

"Really think about your last couple of conversations with Topanga, Angela."

There's a pause on the other line, "He has gotten a little intense about keeping stuff the way it was, hasn't he?"

"Unless it relates to how much of Topanga he's allowed to touch? Yeah."

"What are you afraid he'll say?"

Shawn bangs his head back against the tree, "I don't know. This is just… this is so far outside of what he can handle right now. He's so stuck in the way things are supposed to be. And he has a very… specific image of who I'm supposed to be. And he hates Peter and I just… I can't walk back in that room and be like- Cory, this is the way it is now."

" 'This is the way it is now'?" Angela repeats, "Shawn, how long have you and Peter… been together?"

"A little over a month," Shawn answers, "The night you were in town, actually, he came back to my room and we made out. We were… kind of fooling around for a couple weeks and we've been dating since… like the end of September."

"So…" Angela starts, "So… are you gay?"

"I don't think so. I mean… I'm… I've always been attracted to girls…. When you and I were together…I was… I mean I was  _there_  with you. I wanted you… like physically, I wanted you," Shawn sighs and wraps a hand around his forehead, "I'm sorry, I sound like such a jack ass."

"It's okay," Angela says, "Don't worry about it."

"I didn't go looking for Peter… he was just… we got along, we were friends. It's been really lonely with Cory being so wrapped up in Topanga. Peter and I … connected. He's warm and sweet and honest. And he's…" Shawn forced himself to breath, "He's so good to me, Angela. Our first date he… he wanted to do dinner and a movie and I just wasn't… quite up for it… he rented a movie and ordered Chinese for me. And this weekend... we've been on a date every night since Thursday and stayed in my room every night. We went out for breakfast. We went to a gay coffee shop and listened to music, we walked around a Barnes and Nobles all night. He texts me love poems, Angela. He makes me feel  _steady_. You know? When I call him I know he'll call me back. When we fall asleep together, I know we'll wake up together."

"Are you in love with him?"

Shawn freezes… he hasn't really thought that far, "I… I don't know.

"Okay," Angela responds apologetically, "But he makes you happy? Being with him- it makes you happy?"

"Yeah."

"Honey… that's all Cory wants. That's all I want. That's what all of us want for you."

Shawn shakes his head, "Angela…you don't… I know Cory. He wants me to be happy like he's happy. He wants me to spend every night on the phone with you, and sit at Chubbies with you over Thanksgiving break and plan our wedding for the same summer as his and Topanga's and go on vacations together until we all die and get buried together. I mean… look at the whole Pennbrooke thing. I was happy at the photography place, but it wasn't good enough for Cory, I had to go to the same college he was going to."

Angela is quiet for a moment, "Well… _I'm_  glad you're happy. If that helps."

"Yeah," Shawn tells her, "It helps. I'm glad you're happy too, by the way. You are, happy, right?"

"Yeah. I am. Thanks."

"Okay," Shawn sucks in a breath of the cold November air, and heaves it back out, "Okay. I feel better now that I told someone."

"Good," Angela says, "And look, I'm hearing you- Cory's gone a little off the deep end since high school ended…but I still think you should give him the benefit of the doubt. If he flips he'll steady out eventually."

"The last time I was texting Peter, I told Cory it was you," Shawn admits, not sure what's directing him, "I came home in the middle of the afternoon and I was covered in hickeys and wearing Peter's roommate's scarf. I'm sorry."

Angela sighs, "Okay, If Topanga asks me I'll tell her we're in touch. And if you need to talk you can call me. No one's lying then."

"Thank you for being so cool about this, Angela, I know it's a lot."

"It's not a lot. And just because we aren't together doesn't mean I don't care about you."

"Thanks," Shawn feels a couple of his muscles unclench, "Umm… I should probably let you go. Let you get back to… studying or whatever you were doing."

"Hanging out with my boyfriend actually."

"Ahh," Shawn says, "Well if he asks you why your ex-boyfriend is calling you, you can tell him."

"He's not the jealous type," Angela laughs, "But, yeah, I'll let him know."

"Thank you, Angela. For everything."

"Any time, Shawn."

They wish each other a goodnight and Angela hangs up. Shawn sits back against the tree and shivers in the cold. Then he remembers that he still has to go get coffee to cover his second lie to Cory within a couple of hours and realizes that telling Angela didn't help. Jack and Eric still know that he's secretly seeing someone, Cory still hates someone who's really important to him and his boyfriend is losing patience with waiting to be let back out of the closet he came out of at fourteen.

Shawn opens his phone back up and scrolls down to Jack's number. What if he just called them all in a row? He'll call Jack, Jack'll tell Eric and Rachel, then go back and tell Cory and Cory will tell Topanga and his parents. Then everyone will just know and it'll be over.

His thumb hovers over the button for a full minute. But he can't do it. He shuts his phone and it vibrates. It's a text from Peter.

_And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us. Neruda._

The phone vibrates again.

_I wish you were sleeping with me again tonight. Sorry I lost my temper. Good night sweetheart._

Shawn sighs and texts back.

_I told Angela._

There's a pause.

_Where are you?_

_Out on the mall._

_I'll be right there._

_You don't have to. It's okay._

_I'll be right there._

Shawn sighs, leans back against the tree and waits. Peter shows up in his coat and pajamas, drops down next to Shawn and kisses him hard.

"Mmmhhh," He sighs and pulls back, "What happened?"

"It was fine," Shawn says. He slips his hand into Peter's, "She was a lot less surprised than I expected. And she said she's happy for me."

"She seemed like a cool girl," Peter says, "How do you feel?"

Shawn drops his head back against the tree again, noticing a weird hollow sound this time, "I want a fucking drink," he admits, "And I can't have one."

"I thought you said it went alright?"

"Yeah…. With Angela. But now it's Jack and Eric and Rachel and Cory and the Matthew's finding out. How in the hell did you do this Peter?"

Peter shrugs, "I just had to. I was never anything else," He wraps an arm around Shawn, "Plus my family is really, really chill. Tell you what- I'll take you out for an O'Doules sometime this week. How does that sound?"

"It sounds so close," Shawn sighs.

"Where does Cory think you are?"

"I told him I was getting coffee."

"Come home with me tonight."

"I can't have that either," Shawn says ruefully.

Peter kisses him again, "You're first class tomorrow isn't till 11:30, come on."

"You may have noticed that I didn't do any homework all weekend."

"You're a freshman, they'll forgive you."

"I can't. I have to go get some fucking coffee and go back to my dorm. I've already been gone too long."

"I'll come with you."

"In your pajamas?"

"They're warm, don't worry about it."

* * *

Jack screams when Eric repels into his bedroom window.

"Oh, sorry," Eric says, calmly disengaging his zip tie, "I thought this was my window."

Jack's brain untangles long enough to take in Eric's appearance. He's wearing all black, cammo paint on his face and he's covered in what looks like mulch. He's carried the stink of rotten wood into the room with him.

"What are—Where have you- How do-" Jack stammers.

"Jack that's not important now," Eric announces, "You know what is important?"

"Fitting bars on my window?" Jack manages.

"No, Jack," Eric tells him, "Three words, "Movie Night. Our apartment. Next Friday."

"That's … that's not three words."

"Whatever. I've gotta go up to the roof and get my grappling hook."

Eric leaves, and Jack vows to start looking for a new roommate in the morning.

 


	8. In Which Basketball is Played

Cory is sitting at his computer working on his paper due tomorrow on the Liberal Humanist underpinnings of World War One Literature. Or he would be if he had a single solitary clue what the fuck that meant. He bombed his last paper, he forgot about a test, slept through it, and couldn't make it up, and he's been informed that he may well be facing academic probation if his grades slip a  _fraction_  further.

He's called Topanga three times already, and she hasn't answered. He hasn't seen Shawn since Thursday. Every time he comes back to the room it's empty. Shawn hasn't even been sitting around in it with Peter for the last couple weeks. He's just gone now. Cory is starting to regret not just following Shawn around like the lost puppy he'd felt like for those first couple weeks after the novelty of being at college had worn off.

"At least then I might have a damn tutor like he does," Cory sighs. He drops his head into his hands, digs his fingers into his bristly scalp, takes a deep breath and looks back up at his blank computer screen. He worked so hard to be here and he's fucking it up.

The door swings open as he sets his hands to the key board and Shawn and Peter step through the door wearing gym clothes. Peter's seem a little on the shiny side. Shawn's in his old John Adams stuff and holding a basketball.

"Hey, Cor," Shawn starts, "We were going to go play a little basketball. You wanna come with us?"

"I can't," Cory sighs.

"Come on, man," Peter comes a little further into the room, looking like offering twice pains him, "It'll be fun."

"I'm just super swamped right now," Cory directs this to Shawn, "I've got this nasty paper."

Peter and Shawn nod.

"Okay," Peter says, "Maybe next time?"

"Yeah," Cory agrees blandly as they back out the door.

"But have fun being too cool for me with your sophomore friends," Cory mutters as the door swings shut behind them.

* * *

"Okay, it's simple," Peter says grabbing Shawn by the elbow and pulling him gently into position, "Up like this, feel that?"

"I'm not exactly brand new to the concept," Shawn sighs. Peter's trying to help. It's cute. He's putting up with it.

"You're new to doing it right, sweetheart," Peter says. Shawn's not sure when Peter started calling him sweetheart. He likes it, "If you want to actually do a lay-up that gets the ball into the hoop, which believe me, is the point, try it like this."

"Okay, you realize you have to let go of me for that right?"

"Right," Peter laughs, Shawn can feel the way Peter's breath sinks into his hair, "Fuck it then, I'll just help adjust your form for a while longer."

Shawn elbows Peter away from him, "I think you've adjusted my form plenty for today, I almost missed a quiz in World History."

Peter gives in and lets go. Shawn does a lay-up and misses the back board completely.

"See, when I did it my way I got it in."

"It  _just_  bounced in," Peter protested, "You've gotta have your feet lined up with the shot a little better. You wanna give it another try?"

"Fine. One more," Shawn runs through Peter's whole spiel in his head again takes a step and makes the shot.

"Yay," Peter laughs from the sideline, clapping. Shawn does a flourish and a bow.

"So come on, am I caught up enough to play you now?"

Peter grins and shakes his head, "Nope. I'm still going to kick your ass."

"Bring it," Shawn tosses him the ball.

They're just playing Horse. Shawn's been naked so often over the last week that he's realized the school food is rounding him out a little. He has a little tummy line where he's never had one before. He'd told Peter he was thinking about hitting the treadmill and Peter had given him a deeply skeptical look and asked him why he didn't try doing something fun if he was paranoid about the imaginary body fat he absolutely hadn't put on.

Shawn had mentioned basket ball and Peter had laughed at him, but agreed. And now, fifteen minutes in, Peter was up to H-O-R-S.

"So do you want me to let you off without the embarrassment, or do you want me to go easy on you for a little bit?"

"You know, I'm failing to see how this is more fun than a half hour on the treadmill."

"Uhhh… I'm here?"

Shawn shrugs, "Meh."

Peter shoves him playfully, Shawn whips the ball at him. Peter catches it, and sticks his tongue out.

"You call that a workout?" A voice calls from across the gym.

"Looks like losing to me," another answers.

Eric and Jack stand on the other side of the gym, their stance clearly communicating the challenge they are issuing.

"You think you can take us, Jack?" Peter calls back.

It gets embarrassingly macho from there.

Jack accuses Shawn of traveling so much he needs an agent. Jack makes a crack about Peter maybe having some natural inclination with balls, and Peter steals the ball from him effortlessly and makes a half court shot before turning to him and replies "You know I do," snapping his fingers in a mock queeny way.

Peter and Shawn's team beat Eric and Jack's by four horses to none. Eric, with an alarming amount of winking, invites them to a movie night at their place that weekend. Peter shoots Shawn a quick look and they accept. Eric orders them to invite Cory. They agree.

Afterward Eric and Jack hit the showers, and Peter and Shawn opt to just walk back to the dorms. It takes very little convincing for Peter to get Shawn to "hit the showers" too. It's the middle of the afternoon, there aren't a lot of people in the dorms.

"So okay," Shawn asks, working out how to form this question, "Why is it…"

Peter sighs and stops his hand's steady trail down Shawn's stomach, "Why is what?"

"Why is it that Jack can make a gay joke and Cory can't say anything right?"

Peter moves his hands back up Shawn's chest and around his neck, "Because I know Jack," he shrugs, "He doesn't mean anything by it. He's just fucking around. Why? Jack didn't… get under your skin did he?"

"No. I just… wanted to know."

Peter kisses his cheek and starts trailing his fingers along Shawn's wet body again, down the ticklish insides of his arms and back up, Shawn's already awakening cock begins to show real interest. Thank god he's only eighteen and he can get away with this several times in a day.

"I gave Cory a chance to come play with us," Peter says, "I'm going to keep my promise to give him a shot…I just… between his reaction that first time, and the way he talks to me and… honestly, Shawn, with how worried you are about telling him… Cory puts me on the defensive and I still don't think that's off base."

"What about Eric?"

Peter pauses, "He seems…"

Shawn smirks at him, "I've seen every side of Eric over the years, you can tell me what you really think."

"Eccentric," Peter answers.

"Don't sugarcoat your bullshitting," Shawn laughs and shoves Peter's hips, way to gently for Peter to actually be moved back, Peter stares at his own fingers as they trail around Shawn's chest.

"He seems as though he may be a danger to himself," he chuckles, "But you know. Movie night with your brother and your friends. I'm up for it."

"Me too," Shawn says. He sets his own hands against Peter's body and Peter leans down to kiss him, his hands on Shawn's shoulder slipping around to his back and pulling Shawn's body against his.

"You know," Peter grins beginning to kiss his way down Shawn's body, "If you're really worried about calories, I can think of other ways," he slowly presses Shawn back into the shower wall and sinks down to run his teeth over Shawn's nipple, "To burn those."

Shawn runs his hand through Peter's wet hair and giggles as Peter slips a little slower down his chest, then gasps as Peter swaths his warm tongue over the exact spot Eric had jabbed his finger into earlier. The "Do You Wanna Conversation" spot.

"Mm," Peter rubs his hand along the small of Shawn's back, "Good gasp?"

"Yeah," Shawn answers shakily, "Yeah, good gasp."

Peter slips his hands down from Shawn's back over his ass and squeezes, "Shawn…what if I," he looks up, "What if I made it a better gasp?"

"What?" Shawn asks, but he knows exactly what Peter means.

"I could… you know… I could go down on you," He rubs his hand over Shawn's thigh, in a soothing sort of motion.

"Here?" Shawn asks shooting a look around the shower stall as though expecting it to suddenly be full of spectators. Peter rocks back and stands up.

"Not if you don't want to," He says, setting his fingers against Shawn's hip, "Tell me what you want, Shawn."

Shawn feels his heart kick into high gear... he almost wishes Peter wouldn't always put these decisions on him. That Peter would just go for it. Always being asked makes him feel like he's losing his handle on that "You don't have to figure this out yet."

Shawn tips up to kiss him, "I want that," he whispers.

"You sure?" Peter asks.

"Yes."

"I can call Jeremy and tell him to find somewhere to be for a while," Peter murmurs, running his hands down Shawn's body again.

"How much room time are we eventually going to owe him?" Shawn asks.

Peter shrugs, "Fuck him, his girlfriend's parents pay for her apartment and it's only a couple blocks away."

Peter turns off the shower, and peeks his head out, checking for a moment to see if there's anyone around. The bathroom's deserted. He steps out, grabs his towel, and tosses Shawn his.

Shawn dries off slowly. Half of him is trying to calm down, he's mostly hard and Peter's room is at the other end of the floor. The other half can't believe he's scraping up the reserve to actually move from the shower to Peter's room, especially since Peter offered to do it in the shower. And there is still just a little bit of a voice in the back of his head trying to talk him out of doing this. He steps out of the shower and hops quickly into his clothes.

Peter texts Jeremy and he doesn't answer, which usually means he's out of the room. Peter and Shawn make it down the hallway without running into a soul, which is a relief. They're conspicuous, wet and flushed and carrying their towels hanging in front of them in a less than subtle way.

Peter smiles at Shawn as he digs his keys out of his pocket, but when he sets his hand on the handle the door opens.

"Shit."

"Nice to see you too," Jeremy replies. He's leaning back in his desk chair, feet set up on the desk, computer in his lap, his angry Goth music booming from his computer speakers.

"We need the room," Peter announces. Shawn looks down as his feet. Jeremy knowing hasn't bothered him, but there's a difference between Jeremy being in the room but absorbed in something else when Peter gives Shawn a quick kiss on his way out the door and this- Peter announcing that they're kicking him out to do a lot more than kiss.

"Now?" Jeremy sighs, "You two were at it all morning, I just got the room aired out."

"Pretty much now."

"No."

"I'll go get you that fancy-ass cabernet that Beth saw on TV and I'll pay for half."

Jeremy mimes looking at a watch, "Look at that. I've got places to be," he shuts his laptop and slips it into his bag, "How long do I have places to be Pete?"

"Couple hours," Peter shrugs, shooting Shawn a look. Shawn smiles awkwardly "You've got somewhere to be for a whole weekend night too, man. That shit she wants is expensive."

"Name the day," Jeremy tosses his coat over his arm and grabs his bag and a textbook off his desk, "Kay. I'm out. Corrupt your freshman in peace. Oh, and I've got condoms in my desk drawer. Always bag it, bro."

"You're gonna be late," Peter warns him.

Jeremy puts up his hands and walks out the door, Peter locks it behind him.

"Always bag it, bro," Shawn repeats.

"Don't worry about it," Peter says, "He's just being a jack ass. We aren't there yet."

"We're here," Shawn says, he tries for warm and seductive. He winds up sounding squeaky and young.

"You can change your mind, Shawn. It's okay."

"Peter," Shawn says, voice clearer this time, "Yes means yes."

Peter smiles, kisses him and links their fingers, "Come here."

He brings Shawn over to the bed and lays him back on it, kissing him again, languorously, intoxicatingly, hanging over him. Only their hands and their mouths are touching, Peter's shower warm skin burning into him only at those points while his empty skin is cold in the chilly dorm room. Peter pulls back and starts undressing him, pulling his shirt over his head, leaning down to nip at his neck before he pulls back again and starts on Shawn's jeans. He pulls them down, leaving Shawn bare in his bed, and Shawn watches him undress himself.

Peter's solid and athletic and so, so male, and Shawn still can't figure out why, on Peter, that makes him feel so… secure? Protected? Esteemed? Safe?

Peter's breath catches in Shawn's ear as he leans down to kiss him again, trailing his lips along Shawn's hair line.

Loved.

Shawn realizes this with a feeling like the floor dropping out from under him, and when he reaches out to grab onto something, all he finds is Peter.

Peter sinking down his chest, nuzzling his stubble against Shawn's nipples, tonguing at the crease dividing Shawn's middle, and nipping again at the spot in the middle of his stomach.

The exact spot...

Eric knows.

It's an ill timed moment of clarity. It ruins the sensation of Peter's first exploratory lick of his cock, but at least he finds the gasp encouraging.

Peter starts slow and careful. Peter always starts things slow and careful, and with his head buzzing like this Shawn appreciates it. Two revelations in the time frame of a shirt's removal is overwhelming, and Shawn needs some sort of chance to recover before being whelmed again.

He reaches down between his legs and slides his hands through Peter's hair, slipping his palm to the back of Peter's head and cradling it affectionately. Peter sets his own hand over it and slides a little further down Shawn's cock, then pulls back, sucking gently at the root and increasing the intensity as he pulls off.

"Fuck," Shawn moans, "I love that."

Love.

Peter coaxes Shawn to a climax that makes the orange blaze of the setting sun black out for a few moments and Shawn returns to Peter kissing him, a familiar taste on his lips.

"I love it when you moan like that," Peter pants against him, "Like you couldn't stop if you tried."

Love.

"Your turn," Shawn manages, beginning to wiggle out from under Peter.

"You don't ha-"

"I want to," Shawn replies, "I know I don't have to. I want to. I want to make you feel like you just made me feel."

Peter kisses him deeply again and Shawn's not sure when a silly game of basketball and some ribbing about the little pooch he was getting on his belly turned into this. Peter turns onto his back and Shawn settles on top of him, moving his body slowly down Peter's, running his tongue alongside the dust of hair leading to Peter's groin, straight over the tip of his cock before Peter can reassure him that he doesn't have to again. Peter's hips flex a little and Shawn realizes, a little bit giddily, that this is a whole different process from this angle, and that he doesn't actually know what he's doing.

He goes slowly, trying a muddled mishmash of things he likes on himself, running his hands over Peter's thighs, rubbing his hand under Peter's balls the way Peter does to him. Breathing is more of an issue than he thought it would be.

Shawn's carefully working mouth is suddenly filled with fluid, ears full of Peter's moans. He pulls off and swallows, heaving himself back up Peter's body to kiss him. Peter sets out a hand to stop him, and for a second, Shawn's wide eyes catch Peter's.

Neither of them says it out loud, and they wrap up together in Peter's dirty bed sheets, kissing and panting.


	9. In Which  Eric is Sensitive

"After this movie thing on Friday," Shawn tells himself again, his voice is thick and mumbled, he's trying to conserve time by giving himself a pep talk and brushing his teeth at the same time, "Everyone will have spent some time with him, you'll have Eric and Jeremy for sure, not that Eric's reassuring. You know Jack and Peter get along. I don't see why Rachel would care either way, and maybe just getting Cory out of the dorm will help. Topanga being back in town in a couple days will help. Maybe if you just tell him you're with… you're in lo… you're in love with Peter," Shawn managed it on the second try, "He'll chill the fuck out. Of course you haven't actually told Peter that you're in love with him yet, so maybe not so much with telling Cory… but you could if you had to."

Shawn leans down, spits and goes back to brushing and pep talking, "He's your best friend. He wants you to be happy. You're happier than you've been in a really long time. Peter is good for you. That's what Cory wants."

This part of the pep talk is lifted directly from his last two conversations with Angela, who has moved up from the only person he's told about dating Peter, to the only person he's about being in love with Peter, including Peter. Shawn is thoroughly reassured by the thought that she'll be in Philadelphia next week for Thanksgiving break. He's also pretty sure he's reassured by the fact that Topanga will be in town, and she's more reasonable than Cory and hopefully will be able to calm him down. There's also the fact that having the girls back in town, and going and doing the normal Thanksgiving thing with his family will put Cory in a safe enough place to have a surprise broken to him. Shawn is banking pretty heavily on this. The downside of his "I'll tell them at Thanksgiving" plan is that Peter's going to be home and too far away to celebrate or commiserate with once the news is broken. Plus, even though it's only going to be four days, Shawn's going to miss him.

"Fuck I am in this deep," he sighs after he's spit and rinsed. He goes back to the room and gets dressed and ready for class.

* * *

Peter's grinning nervously at him over his saved seat when Shawn gets to math class that afternoon.

"Hey,"

"Hey yourself," Shawn says, sitting down and pulling out his book, reaching up from his bag to give Peter's hand a quick surreptitious squeeze before he digs back down into his back for a pen.

"So I had a question, and if you say no, that's okay," Peter started, "But my mom is kind of… intense about getting to meet you, and I mentioned that your family isn't in Philadelphia, and she… do you want to come to Thanksgiving at my house?" Peter rushes the last part of that sentence out quickly, almost as though he hopes Shawn won't hear it.

But Shawn hasn't processed that far yet, "Your mom wants to meet me?"

"Affirmative," Peter bites his lip, "It's okay if you don't want to come, I know you have Thanksgiving stuff with the Matthews, she'd just kill me if I didn't at least mention the invitation."

"She knows who I am?" Shawn asks, slowly wrapping his head around this "parent who wants to meet him" thing.

"You came up in conversation, yeah," Peter says, "That's okay right? That I told her about… you? Cause both my parents know… I mentioned you. They asked if I was… if someone like you was around. Cause I'm sorry if-"

"No, that's okay," Shawn says immediately, "She just… that makes them want to meet me?"

Peter gave him a questioning look, "Yeah… they want to meet you. Why wouldn't they want to meet you?"

"Nobody ever wants their parents to meet me," Shawn tells him honestly, "I'm just… I can't go though, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, It's a long weekend,"

"No, it's not that, I just… I was going to tell people that weekend," Shawn whispers, glancing around them, even though no one is close enough to overhear, or in fact, paying them the slightest amount of attention.

"Oh," Peter's eyes widen for a moment and then he smiles, "Okay then."

"But I'll call you,"

"My mom is going to try to say hi to you if you do."

"I think I'd like that," Shawn admits.

"Okay."

"Okay," Peter replies, his dumb grin, Shawn is sure, reflecting his own. Class starts and both boys drift off, Shawn playing an awkward little meeting the parents fantasy in his head as the professor scribbles numbers across the board.

* * *

Jack's plan to impress Rachel by pretending to get the internship and then telling her he'd lied to impress her hadn't worked. It had turned out that she'd been more "polite about" than "interested in" the whole idea of the internship anyway, and she had yet to question Jack on the fact that, despite the fact that he sometimes wore a suit, he never seemed to be  _at_  the internship. Jack had simply phased the suit out and let the whole thing disappear into an embarrassing mist.

His new plan to beat Eric was to simply be less crazy. This was absolutely bullet proof. Eventually Eric was going to screw up. Get caught while in his lame disguise as a painting in one of her class rooms. Be seen shimmying up one of the trees outside their building. Accidently repel into her window. And Jack would just stand back, and be "not crazy" and thus irresistible.

And with the way Eric is organizing this silly movie night thing, Jack's pretty sure that moment of "not crazy" shining will come sooner rather than later.

Jack spots Rachel in the kitchen, nibbling at a strawberry pop tart and sipping a cup of coffee. She's so pretty. He moves in.

"Morning Rachel," Jack greets her, Rachel merrily waves her pop tart at him.

"Morning Rachel!" Eric shouts, popping up from behind the counter and startling them both. Rachel's pop tart goes flying, Eric plucks it out of the air and returns it to her with an antiquely chivalrous sort of flourish.

"Uh… thanks," Rachel manages.

"So Rachel," Eric starts, in the fake deep voice he uses whenever he talks to her, "Will you be attending our big movie get together tonight?"

"Yeah, that's the plan," Rachel nods, taking a steadying gulp of coffee, "I'm looking forward to it actually. I think it's so sweet of you guys to have your brothers over. My sister and I don't get along at all."

Eric and Jack both "awww" sympathetically, then shoot each other dirty looks.

"And, I hope this doesn't make me sound like a spaz or anything, but it's… it's just so nice that you're so chill about having your brother's boyfriend and friend over too," Rachel says, patting Jack's arm.

"Aw-" Jack starts, then what she actually said registers, "Wait what?"

"You know… Peter and Shawn and Jeremy," Rachel says.

"Oh no, Peter and Jeremy are just roommates," Jack tells her with a shrug, "But I hear Jeremy gets that a lot."

"No I know that. I meant just Peter and Shawn," She makes a sorting-together gesture and then waves at a separate category, "And then Jeremy. Shawn and Peter are really cute together. I saw them out at this gay coffee shop last week and I waved at them through the window but they were kissing so I don't…"

Eric steps back behind Jack and shakes his head, Rachel stutters to a stop, "I don't have any idea what I'm talking about… and I'm still talking. Oh no."

"You saw Peter and Shawn kissing at a gay coffee shop?" Jack demands.

"No," Rachel replies, then bites her lip, "Yes. I… I'm sorry, I thought you knew… you were teasing Peter about hickeys when he was over here, and you were teasing Shawn and from what I overheard it sounded like you… oh my god. Wow. Rachel. Foot right in the mouth."

"I am sensitive and unthreatened by all sexualities," Eric announces spreading his arms wide and looking reverently toward the ceiling, "For this life is a beautiful mosaic, made up of all kinds of colors and gayness and it's all beautiful. Especially when it's two ladies," he drops his gaze back down and winks at Jack, who defaults to his "shut up Eric" look despite his shock.

"No, hey, now," Jack stammers, "I'm unthreatened. I'm sensitive. I'm just… a little blown away. Why wouldn't Shawn tell me about this?"

"I'm so sorry," Rachel repeats, "Please don't say anything to Shawn about me… fucking this up for him, I shouldn't have said anything."

"I  _was_  teasing Peter about his hickey's and he was saying that he was really into this guy, that things were starting to get serious. And we were hanging out with them yesterday. Did they seem… together when we played basketball with them yesterday, Eric?" Jack asks.

"Dude, Peter was practically groping him while he was teaching him to do a lay up, where were you?"

Jack turns to Rachel, "Do I seem like I wouldn't be… the kind of guy whose brother could talk to him about this?"

"No, you don't. I'm sure Shawn's just… I'm sure that whatever the reason is it's okay," Rachel tells him, "I'm so sorry. I'm sure it's not because of you."

"I'm going to go talk to him," Jack declares, striding into the living room toward their coat rack.

"Jack, wait," Eric sighs catching him by the shoulder, "If you go confront him about this you're just going to make him feel cornered. This is something he needs to work out for himself and just because he didn't tell you doesn't mean he doesn't want you to ever find out, it just means that he's not ready to tell you yet. You can't go force that. You gotta give him the time he needs. This isn't about you, it's about him."

"Okay," Jack nods, "Okay. You're right. I won't talk to him about this. I'll just… I'll just make sure he's coming tonight. Go be… vaguely and nonthreateningly welcoming. Right?"

"Okay," Eric says, letting him go.

"I'm sorry," Rachel calls after him. Jack waves it off and leaves.

Rachel drops her face into her hands, "Fuck. I'm so stupid."

Eric shrugs, "How were you supposed to know?"

Rachel sighs and takes another gulp of her coffee, "It was really sweet of you to step in with Jack like that. You _are_  very sensitive."

"I am," Eric declares with mock humility, "Because really… sexuality is a very fluid thing. And I know women are very sympathetic to the experiences of gay and bisexual men. And sometimes a little turned on by bisexual men. I'm not saying that I'm bisexual, but if you were into that, maybe after some… a lot of rum…"

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asks, giving him a quizzical look.

"Nothing," Eric back tracks immediately, "What are you talking about?"

 


	10. In Which Shawn Solves For X

Angela's phone vibrates in her pocket while she's at lunch. It's Topanga so she just lets it go to voicemail. It's not that she doesn't love Topanga, Topanga's probably her best high school friend, but considering that Topanga only calls about three things One- to actually have a fun conversation with Angela, Two- to gush exuberantly about how much she loves Yale, and Three- to complain about Cory/worry about how Cory isn't doing all that well in college/ think out loud about transferring to Pennbrook because the distance is making things so much harder than she thought it would- whatever she's calling Angela about today can wait. Angela's meeting people and dating and having a great time at Columbia, and she while she still cares about all her high school friends… she doesn't feel any need to allow herself to get sucked into the already complicated Philadelphia drama.

Though, despite her proclaimed desire to avoid the Philadelphia drama, Angela always answers Shawn's phone calls because Shawn actually needs her, she feels like she understands Shawn's track record with relationships better than anyone else, and she knows that record is the one thing that Cory will probably never genuinely understand about Shawn.

Topanga once asked her why she'd even agreed to date Shawn for two weeks in the first place, and Angela had spent almost two hours trying to explain to an unbudgeable Topanga that she agreed with Shawn, sometimes you really did just want, and you really could just  _have_ , the fun part. First dates and first kisses and getting out before everything got complicated and screwed up. And Topanga had started to sound like Cory, pushing love and predictability and security above all else.

And then Angela had fallen in love with Shawn and she'd realized Topanga was right. The love and security and intimacy were wonderful. But Topanga never mentioned, and maybe hadn't learned about yet, the worry and fear of getting hurt that love brought. When Shawn calls now she can hear all those things in his voice, she can remember when she felt them for him, and she can sympathize.

She wonders, if Shawn does tell Cory and Topanga about Peter over Thanksgiving, as he is clearly phsycing himself up to do, if she'll be able to explain to Topanga that she wants Shawn to be happy because, in reality, she and Shawn are pretty similar, and if he can find it again, it's like having proof that she can find it again too. Not that she isn't over Shawn, she's about as over him as anyone can be over their first love, and not that she has any intention of looking on the other side of the fence for her next chance at love like he has, but… there is something peaceful about hearing Shawn… twitterpated. Something soothing about hearing him joyful. She's a little jealous that he fell back into love with a good person so much faster than she did, her boyfriend's a good guy, but she doesn't think she'll wind up in love with him, but she was telling him the complete truth – she cares about him and she wants to know he's happy.

Angela's not sure if she'll ever tell Shawn this, but she also thinks he's right about Cory and Topanga. They aren't like she and Shawn, they don't understand that the fairytale isn't real, and they'll never understand how reassuring an imperfect coupling can be and how perfection can hang over your head like a weight ready to fall and crush you.

Angela privately thinks that this is why Topanga won't sleep with Cory. There is a glamour to "we've been in love since we were thirteen and we're going to be together forever" that probably just barely survived the tarnish of the whole Lauren debacle by twisting it into "our love survives all obstacles" and can't really handle the sweat and grunting and, knowing Cory, total lack of coordination required by the underwhelming first time.

They have all the fairytale they need, and Shawn's right, they think everyone around them wants the same thing. And, though she denies it everytime he asks her, Angela thinks Shawn is probably also right to think that Cory's going to have a hard time accepting just how far Shawn has strayed from Cory's idea of what Shawn's fairy tale was always going to be.

* * *

Shawn and Jeremy are sitting together in the union with their books. Shawn is trying to listen intently as Jeremy explains the lesson to him again, but he finds his mind drifting.

"And then that number is going to be X," Jeremy says, "Okay. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah," Shawn yawns, taking a deep drink of his mug of coffee, "Why do you wear so much make up?"

Jeremy rolls his eyes, "The same reason you're sucking cock- I just like it."

"Well that was unnecessary," Shawn replies, "You can be very hostile. You should look at that in yourself."

"Maybe you and your boy should analyze why you're masochistic enough to put up with it."

"Because it's just an act," Shawn rubs at his eye, "In reality you're really sweet and you do this whole nasty temper thing to keep people away."

"Get back to your cigars, Freud, and solve for fucking X," Jeremy says, dropping his pen into the book in front of Shawn.

"You care about Peter," Shawn continues.

"He's clean, he's quiet, before you came along I hardly ever got sexiled, and if I lose Peter who knows what kind of freak Res Life will stick me with?"

"You are so full of shit. He's your bro."

"You may be the only dude I've ever met that cannot pull off the word "bro", bro," Jeremy replies.

Shawn shrugs, "He's your best friend. He's important to you."

"If you don't know how to find fucking x, you really need to just bring that shit up right away. I've got things that need to be done," Jeremy growls beginning to tap the pen agitatedly against the table, "This whole sexy mess," he waves at his face, "Ain't easy, and I've gotta shower before your brother's movie deal tonight because I'm going back to Beth's afterward. As requested."

"Explain to me again how you wound up coming over?"

"Beth wanted to do something with my friends, she wanted to meet Peter's boyfriend. And Eric invited me."

"It's weird that you know Eric," Shawn says

"It's a small school."

"It's weird that you like Eric," Shawn corrects himself.

Jeremy shrugs.

"So even Beth, who I have not met, knows that I'm-"

"The Straight Boyfriend?"

"The straight boyfriend?"

"That's what she calls you, she says it makes you sound like less of a pretentious fuck than something like "unlabeled" would."

"It's weird that that's a thing," Shawn yawns, "Is it weird that I don't know Beth, but she knows, or at least knows of me?"

"You are just all around weird today, bro," Jeremy responds, just a touch of amused sympathy under his impatience, "The double life blues tiring you out or is Peter just boffing you into exhaustion?"

"So X?" Shawn redirects.

"Solve for it."

Shawn braces himself and picks up Jeremy's pen from the book. He assesses the equation in front of him muzzily for a moment, and just when he thinks he's found a place to start, he's interrupted by a gruff voice from behind him.

"Hey Jeremy, how's it going?"

Shawn looks up at Jeremy and sees Jeremy's heavily kohled eyes go from bored and aloof to icy and hateful in a split second.

"It'd be going better if you had just passed right by me on your way to go fuck yourself," Jeremy responds, folding his arms in front of him.

Shawn slowly tilts in his seat, so that he can see whoever has invoked Jeremy's wrath without actually craning around to gawk at him, and is surprised t see a tall slender redhead in a worn plaid shirt. The shirt is way too tight and his biceps don't necessarily bulge out of the sleeves, but they… menacingly poke out in a way that Shawn's biceps certainly don't. He's also got purple plastic rim glasses, and rainbow converse.

Skinny Ginger In Rainbow Sneakers tucks his hands in his pockets, but throws his head back in challenge, "Yeah, it's nice to see you too. Listen, I've been trying to get a hold of Peter, but he's... he's not answering his phone, and I don't know what the hell he's doing these days, but I never run into him. I know you aren't my biggest fan, but do you think you could… could you please, just give him this. It's important."

Skinny Ginger In Rainbow Sneakers pulls a folded piece of paper torn from a legal pad out of his pocket and holds it out to Jeremy, who doesn't move to take it.

"Come on, all that stuff was what? Like a year ago?" Skinny Ginger shrugs awkwardly and flaps the note at Jeremy, "I just need him to talk to me. You don't have to like me, just… just please help me out? Just this once?"

Jeremy sighs, and takes the note from his hand. Then he opens it.

"Hey!" Skinny Ginger reaches out to pull it away, and Jeremy ducks the letter of his reach, crumples the note back up, spits on it, and chucks it at Skinny Ginger's flannel encased chest, where it sticks depressingly for a moment before falling to the ground.

"Fuck. Off. Anthony," Jeremy enunciates carefully.

Anthony scoops the note up off the floor, huffing, "You are such a goddamn sociopath," before he turns and scurries away.

Jeremy reaches across the table, grabs Shawn's coffee cup with a growl, and takes a gulp from it before returning it to Shawn's side of the table.

"Right. So. X."

"What just happened?" Shawn demands. Jeremy sighs.

"Sorry. I hate that kid."

"You don't say."

Jeremy sighs, "Fine. You win. Peter's my bro. Anthony was his ex. Anthony was a douche. I told Peter before he started dating Anthony that Anthony was a douche and then I reminded him frequently about the douchery of Anthony until Anthony overflowed with douchery to the point that Peter finally dumped him before he could bring anymore douche into our lives. And now I am following the letter of the law in the Bro's Code, namely that you protect your bros from their douchey exes who inexplicably want "to just talk some shit out" presumably so they can get back together with the aforementioned bro and recharge their douche meter by committing some unfortunate act of mega-douchery."

Shawn took a minute to absorb that, "That was Peter's ex boyfriend?"

"Yes. He hasn't come up because we do not speak of him. Kind of like the surrealists used to talk about anyone they hated as though they were already dead, but more so, because we just don't talk about him."

"He's-"

"A douche," Jeremy interrupts.

"Really… obviously gay."

"Yeah, he's a douche about that too."

"What did he do that made you hate him so much, and please don't answer something like 'was a douche'."

Jeremy pauses for a moment, clearly having his answer taken from him… "You know, Shawn… if Peter hasn't brought the Anthony thing up… I probably shouldn't answer for him."

"Why does he want to get back together with Peter?"

"It doesn't matter," Jeremy says, tucking his arms in tighter around himself, "Peter wouldn't take Anthony back if Anthony threatened to set him on fire unless he did."

"Would it be weird if I asked Peter about it?"

Jeremy taps his fingers against the table speculatively for a moment, "Is it going to bother you if you don't find out? Even though you know that conversations about exes never go well?"

"Probably, yeah."

"Fine. Ask him. But when you tell this story? I spit right on his douchey glasses, okay?"

"Okay."

"Right. So. X."


	11. In Which Peter Trudges

Peter slings his heavy back pack over his shoulder and begins his trudge toward the Union. The basketball preseason meeting seems to have sucked all the enthusiasm from his body. He's tired just thinking about the schedule. Less time for friends, less time for homework, less time for Shawn.

He tries to concentrate on the amount of money this school is giving him to play on this terrible team. It revives him a little, but the realization that this whole thing with Shawn's friends tonight isn't going to be as good as he was hoping it would be is proving to be a pretty strong enthusiasm suck.

He's been thinking about it as the boyfriend who is going to go hang out with Shawn's friends, get brought into the circle a little bit, then take Shawn back to his empty dorm, lick every inch of him until he gives up that overwhelmed moan, then wake up with him and take him out for breakfast. But because stupid Cory, supposedly Shawn's  _best friend_ , probably can't handle that, Peter has to be the awkward tag along, who has to watch not just what he says, but how close he stands to Shawn, where he touches him, if he can touch him at all, if he can sit next to Shawn, and if he can even talk without tangling a lie that Shawn's already told.

He hates everything about this. He's never hidden. Even when he was the only gay guy in his entire school, to say nothing of being the only gay jock. Even last year when his roommate, Rhys, had been this squeaky, sheltered, little thing who had been completely freaked out by him, he'd still been open about it with the kid, who, to his credit, did eventually mellow. He's only lied to his friends or family about a guy once, and he had a good reason, and he hates it that he has to lie now. He hates watching Shawn lie fluently to Cory and Jack, he hates the gnawing feeling of guilt he gets in his stomach when he accidently lets something slip to someone, even when it's just Jeremy, or Beth, or his parents. When Jack had started teasing him about his hickey's and mentioned Shawn's, Peter had hated the way his heart threatened to stop.

Normally, he'd never put up with this. When Brett from down his hallway had attacked him in a fit of drunken hormones at a party in the first few weeks of college and tentatively attempted to date him, Peter had only put up with Brett keeping him a secret for a about a week before giving up on the whole thing. The whole reason Peter had come to a small liberal arts school was so that he could play basketball, get a good education, be out, and be happy. There were actually people who were out of the closet at this school, the majority of the basketball team hadn't cared who he wanted to sleep with, and not in the "he's our best scorer we'll pretend it's not going on" way his high school teammates had avoided caring, but with the legitimate lack of seeing why it would matter that people like Jack and Jeremy had.

He's given Shawn so much time because he had such a crush on him, and then they just had so much chemistry as friends, and because Shawn is legitimately confused. Brett was gay and out to a couple friends and just couldn't manage to wrap his head around being with a guy, Shawn's only had a couple months to try to figure out what he even is, and it's not like he isn't at least trying to be open. He told Angela (though Peter's not totally convinced that confiding in the ex-girlfriend isn't a whole nother can of worms) he took Peter out on a date and let them be anonymously together in public. He's not weird about being affectionate with Peter in public, even if Peter has noticed that the line between okay and out of line is much better defined than it was when he and Shawn were just friends. Plus something about Shawn is starting to make Peter feel like he might be worth waiting just a little longer for.

But Peter is really hoping that Shawn comes through with his plan to make the announcement next week. "A Little Longer" is not forever and while Peter wants to be understanding… he just does not give a flying fuck about what Cory Matthews thinks of him and wishes Shawn didn't either. Especially when everyone else is Shawn's life is… chill. Jack likes Peter, Eric… probably likes him, hell even Angela likes him and likes him  _as Shawn's boyfriend_. That Shawn's best friend is the hold up… just sucks.

"Hey!"

Peter sighs internally, he likes he teammates, but this is too damn early in the season to start letting himself be dragged along to their 4 o'clocks at O'Malley's. He's not going to be up for that until at least January. He turns around sluggishly.

And stops.

"I've been reenacting a goddamn discovery channel special trying to track you down Peter Macdonald," Anthony announces, arms crossed over his chest, "Two months through the dreaded campus savannah."

Peter wishes Jeremy was here. He'd have a witty, or at least vicious come back to that. All Peter manages is "Yeah."

"I ran into Jeremy. He fucking spit on me."

Peter feels a sudden warm rush for Jeremy. He'd hug him for that if Jeremy didn't hate being hugged. The warmth is followed by the guilt. The guilt is not a friend.

"I've been thinking about you," Anthony switches from announcing to charming and moves a few steps closer, "Thinking about that night."

"I haven't," Peter says brusquely.

Anthony feigns an arrow to the heart, "That's not you talking. That's Jeremy."

"And you already talked to Jeremy. And I think I'll let him speak for me on this," Peter starts to turn.

"If you really meant that we wouldn't have fucked."

Peter gathers it up. Reminds himself of what happened last time he let Anthony suck him in and forces himself to undo the locks he keeps it under.

"I was drunk. I wanted to get laid. And you were there. That's it."

"Convenience? That's really what you're claiming?" Anthony advances again, in the same predatory way.

"Like a Kleenex. Or a gum wrapper. One use and throw it away. That's all you were good for, and if I'd known I was risking talking to you again afterward, I would've found anything else to stick my dick in, Anthony."

"Okay, I was wrong," Anthony shrugs, " _That_  was Jeremy talking. People really do become like their roommates."

"And you just get more like yourself."

"You love it," Anthony grins, "What are you doing tonight?"

"I've got plans with friends."

"Still chasing your straight boy huh?" Anthony's completely in his space now.

Peter nearly starts telling Anthony that he caught him. Just being able to spit out that he's doesn't want Anthony and he's found someone better would be a nice step in getting Anthony to just go away. But of all the people he could let anything about Shawn slip to, Anthony would be the most disastrous. Anthony puts his hand on Peter's hip and Peter pulls away from him.

"I know you missed the memo, but sometimes you can hang out with people without fucking them. Well… you can't. But I can. I'm sure you remember that."

That's as good an exit line as he's going to get. Peter spins and marches away from Anthony.

"I'm going to find you again, Peter."

Peter keeps marching. His passing thought about finding Shawn before this movie deal and getting a really good kiss in is now an absolute necessity.

* * *

"Kay. I am supportive," Jack tells Eric and Rachel as they get the slightly haphazard apartment ready for company. They had been planning on just leaving the mess, but now that Jack had found out that the company was actually kind of important, he was forcing them to clean it up, "I am  _all_  support. I am supportive like a flying buttress," he pauses, "I am suddenly a little uncomfortable using the word buttress in relation to my younger brother… banging a dude, and I'm back to just supportive," Jack pulls a coffee cup out of the couch, "But supportive like a major architectural element, baby."

"You're supportive? Hah!" Eric scoffs melodramatically, "If you're so supportive, how come you didn't even know about this?"

"Because, Eric, I am not suspiciously able to decipher hickeys like I'm goddamn Indiana Jones, Hah HAH!" Jack replies, then wishes his example hadn't been Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones is cool. He hands Eric the coffee cup and goes back to cleaning, "That to me, sounds like a skill that you would only get by leaving a lot of hickeys on a lot of girls, and then leaving them showing that you are uncaring and irresponsible."

"Or, it shows that when I'm with a woman, I really know what I'm doing," Eric turns to wink at Rachel, and realizes that she is no longer sitting at the kitchen island, "Oh, dude, she's gone."

Jack looks over too, "Oh. Yeah. Whoops, didn't even see her leave."

"Me neither," Eric sighs.

* * *

"Well, you know, he's older," Angela sighs.

"He's only a little less than two years older than me, and only a grade higher," Shawn responds.

"I don't see why you're so warped about this, Shawn, so he's had another serious boyfriend. You've had other long term serious… relationship. You've both slept with other people. So what?"

"Oh shit."

"What?"

"Peter totally slept with this guy didn't he?"

"You can't possibly have just had that thought," Angela scoffs, "Are you and Peter sleeping together?"

Shawn's face burns in the cold air, sometimes he can't believe he talks to Angela about this part of his life, "Umm… no. We just started…like… new-"

"You know, never mind, forget I asked," Angela cuts him off and Shawn's grateful. This is not the conversation he wants to be having while people are still scurrying around the mall, "But anyway- what do you care? This guy's clearly a douche, Peter must be going out of his way to avoid him, it's too small a campus for them not to have crossed paths, and, hello- Peter's best friend  _spit_  on this guy. Peter should be more worried about you calling me than you should be that you accidentally had a run in with some guy he hasn't spoken too in like a year."

Shawn kicks at an icicle hanging off a hedge, "I think it's different with you. I'm pretty sure Peter thinks I'm like… late bloom gay."

"I thought he keeps saying you don't have to figure this out."

"He does."

"Have you figured it out yet?"

"Nope," the icicle breaks off the hedge and shatters on the sidewalk, "Not yet. But I think that's what he thinks, plus you're half a country away and in a relationship. I don't think he sees you as… you know, a candidate."

"Shawn, this got-spit-on guy is not a candidate."

"I don't know. He's hunting Peter down. Something's going on."

"Shawn, I want to help you, I really do, but I don't think I'm the person to talk to about this."

"Do you think I should talk to Peter?"

"Yes," Angela replies, "I think you should wait for the right moment, but yes, I think you should talk to him about this. But you also need to chill out. So he dated someone besides you. He's dating you now, he clearly hates this other guy. Don't worry about it."

"You're right. I need to be expending my energy worrying about tonight."

"It's going to be fine. It's not like Peter's going to do anything."

"What if he accidently calls me sweetheart?"

"He calls you sweetheart?"

Shawn flushes, "Yes," he mumbles.

"That's adorable."

"Shut up."

"It's going to be fine. You can call me afterward if you must. But please tell Cory I'm anyone else. Topanga asked me what's going on with us the last time we talked and I couldn't think of anything to tell her. I made up something totally incoherent about homework that absolutely made it sound like we're getting back together."

"Doesn't Topanga have better things to do? Homework and her theater stuff and whatever?"

"I think Cory took up more of her time than either of us realized."

Shawn straightens up a little and adjust his coat zipper just in time to see Peter trudging purposefully around the corner. He waves and Peter looks surprised to see him.

"All right. I'll think of something," Shawn says, "Thanks Angela. I gotta go."

"Me too."

"Bye.

"Bye."

Peter walks up to him and grabs his wrist, "Hey, how are you? How was tutoring?"

Shawn shrugs, "You know. Lots of exciting numbers and symbols. Your meeting?"

"This is going to be a tough season," Peter sighs and looks down at their hands, "So we've got a little time before your brother's thing. You wanna…" He squeezes Shawn's wrist a little, Shawn pulls it away, "You know, go somewhere?"

Usually when Peter suggests something in the middle of the day like this he's smirking or husky or has that dopey smile on his face that he gets sometimes. He sounds almost irritated right now.

"Are you okay?" Shawn asks.

"A little worn out," Peter shrugs, "It's been a long week."

"Yeah," Shawn agrees.

"So…"

"Yeah, okay," Shawn agrees, "But Jeremy's going to be getting his makeup and stuff together in your room, Cory's got homework."

"There's this huge shower stall type bathroom in the arts studio," Peter murmurs, "It's clean. I've got Jeremy's key. No one's there this time of day. Hardly anyone uses it."

"We're supposed to be at the apartment in like, 20 minutes."

"Is it alright if we're a little late?"

Peter's voice is getting reassuringly husky again, and Shawn kind of likes the idea of reminding himself that Peter's his, not Anthony's, his.

"Yeah, okay."

Peter jerks his head toward the art studios and starts walking. Shawn follows behind him walking close and silent through a few buildings until Peter stops at a hallway Shawn's never seen and pulls a key out of his backpack.

It smells strange inside, like Dial and clay. Not unpleasant, just odd. It's gleaming clean under the buzzing florescent lights. Peter starts unzipping Shawn's coat and pulling it off of him.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" Shawn asks again as Peter starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"Honestly?" Peter sighs, "It's not really that alright. I was just… I was thinking I'd have you to myself tonight, and I realized that I wouldn't, and I've had a crummy day," he kisses Shawn as he deftly flicks his fly open, "And I wanted you before we go do this thing with your friends tonight."

Shawn pulls starts pulling Peter's clothes open too, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be," Peter sighs, kissing him again.

"I want to go home with you tonight," Shawn pulls Peter's fly open.

"But you can't have that," Peter says, slipping his hand into Shawn's underwear.

"Not yet," Shawn answers breathily, moving his hand into Peter's fly, "Soon. I promise."

"Sshhh."

Peter presses their mouths together and they kiss and pant and stroke hurriedly, both popping with plenty of time to still make it to Jack and Eric's.

As they both quickly clean up, Shawn wonders if Peter ever brought Anthony back here for a quickie.

 


	12. In Which Much Cheese Is Eaten

Cory gives up on his homework an hour earlier than he promised himself he would. He just can't concentrate anymore. It's Saturday and he wants to just hang out with his friends and not worry about France or their trenches or their morbid poetry. He hangs around the room for a little while, waiting to see if Shawn swings by. He feels like he hasn't seen Shawn in months. He hasn't even been hanging out in their room with Peter for the last few weeks. He's always just gone, and that's never a good sign. When he decides that it's finally not too early to go up to his brother's apartment he starts across campus.

"Hey. Cory. You're early," Jack greets him at the door, a soapy rag in hand.

"Yeah, a little," Cory says, stepping in. Eric is hauling the ancient vacuum cleaner out of the closet, "Wow… you guys are really… cleaning."

"Well, we are having company over," Jack says as Eric heaves the vacuum cleaner onto the couch and begins attempting to move it across the cushions.

"Company…. Liiikkkeee Rachel?" Cory asks with a laugh.

Jack and Eric exchange a look.

"Yeah," They both answer.

"You know guys," Cory starts, "She does live here, she's seen the mess."

Eric sucks a cushion up into the vacuum cleaner and begins trying to pry it out. Jack sighs and helps him to tug it free.

"We're trying something."

Cory shrugs and heads to the fridge.

"You realize there's nothing in here but cheese and Diet coke and beer right?"

"There's some ginger ale in the vegetable drawer," Eric calls over the whine of the blocked vacuum cleaner.

"Why's it in the vegetable drawer?"

"It was there when we moved in."

Jack finally wrests the cushion free of the vacuum cleaner, "Could you cube the cheese for us?"

"You're putting me to work?" Cory demands, "I thought I was company?"

"Cube the damn cheese, Cory," Eric sighs, starting over with the couch.

* * *

Were Shawn Hunter living in a merciful world, Hell would've opened up and swallowed him by now, but this is not a merciful world. This is Philadelphia and Hell will not save him from his flat-ass ginger ale, or the thoroughly boyfriendy asking-for-permission look that Peter is giving him in regards to the beer that Jack is offering.

Shawn tries to shrug without moving his body. Cory harrumphs and pointedly requests one of Rachel's diet cokes. Peter accepts the offer of beer and Jack pops the cap off the bottle and hands it to him. Shawn shifts uncomfortably. His underwear is sticking to him. A quickie on the way over here was a bad idea on so many levels.

"Fancy Cheese?" Eric offers a glass platter with cubes of cheese impaled by decorative toothpicks arranged on it.

"Try the Munster," Jack suggests.

Peter self consciously takes a couple of toothpicks and holds some out to Shawn, who tries to take them without touching Peter's hands.

Nothing has ever been this awkward.

There's a knock at the door and Shawn propels himself off the couch to answer it, hoping it's Rachel with the pizza, but he's greeted by a heavily make-upped face.

"Pizza?" Cory asks.

"Nope. Jeremy," Shawn abandons the door and returns to his spot on the couch at a very exact distance between Peter and Cory.

"Sorry to disappoint," Jeremy snarls. His long black Victorian coat swirls as he steps in to hold the door for a girl that emerges from behind him like the sun returning after an eclipse. It takes a second for the room to register her.

Her medium length, dishwater blonde hair is pulled back in a pony tail. Her plain wire rim glasses have tiny little jewels that glint at the corners. Jeremy steps in behind her and helps her, with archaic chivalry, out of her puffy baby blue down jacket, revealing her comfortable looking salmon pink sweater and slightly worn blue jeans. Shawn's not positive, but he's pretty sure she's not even wearing makeup.

"This is my girlfriend, Beth," Jeremy says, carefully hanging Beth's coat on the rack and removing his own coat and hat, "Girlfriend Beth, this is pretty much everyone Shawn knows."

"Hi, Beth," Peter says, introducing the rest of the room, who are still a little too stunned by taking in how normal Beth is.

Eric rallies first.

"Fancy cheese?"

Beth smiles and takes a few cubes.

"Try the white one with all the moss," Eric suggests. Beth picks up the cube and Jack hands her a folded napkin.

"You know, guys," Cory starts, "It would be easier to impress Rachel with this whole Martha Stewart routine if she was- you know- here."

Jack and Eric look at Cory, then at each other.

"Do you guys have any crackers?" Beth asks.

"Dammit!" Jack bolts for the kitchen and Beth looks embarrassed.

"Whoops."

"Don't worry about it," Shawn sighs, "They're just… being them."

"Who's Rachel?" Peter asks.

"Rachel is our hottie-hot roommate," Eric supplies.

"They are having a misguided battle for her affections," Cory says.

"You're face is misguided," Eric fumes.

Jack returns with the crackers, arranges them carefully with the cheese and offers the plate to Beth again.

"So, Beth," Shawn starts, knowing he can't  _not_  ask, "How did you and Jeremy meet?"

Jeremy slips his hand into Beth's and she answers "Last spring at String-Alongs, the knitting club? I taught him how to crochet, and we just, you know, clicked. He's gotten really good, he made these," She holds up their enjoined hands to show off Jeremy's intricate lacy black fingerless gloves.

"You crochet little lacy things?" Cory asks him with a dubious little smirk.

"If you're asking if in my spare time I use incredible dexterity, long-term memory, and mathematical understanding and precision to create extremely detailed woven artworks, the answer is yes. Asshat," Jeremy replies.

"Oh, Jeremy, don't call Cory an asshat," Beth scolds him gently.

"Don't worry about it, Cory," Peter sighs, "Jeremy's called me an asshat at least twice today."

"What about you, Shawn, how did," Beth catches herself, her cheeks flare and she lamely finishes with, "Your math tutoring go?"

Jeremy answers for him and they all settle in for more awkward and fancy cheese.

It's another twenty minutes of chewing and halting conversation before the front door finally opens.

"Sorry it took me so long," Rachel's already apologizing as she walks in, "Carter's car broke down and I went to pick him up. But never fear, we're here-"

A tall, handsome man steps around her and finishes, "And we brought the pizza."

"Carter," Rachel gestures at him then at the waiting living room, "Everybody. Everybody, my boyfriend Carter. Oh and these are my roommates, Eric and Jack."

"Nice to meet you. Where do you want the pizza?" He directs this question at Eric and Jack, both of whom are staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths.

"You can set it right here," Cory sighs, pointing to the coffee table, "Where we can all reach it."

Carter nods and sets it down next to Eric and Jack's platter.

"Oh, hey, fancy cheese!" Carter exclaims. He reaches for a cube, but Eric snatches the platter away from him.

"Nope. Food's here. We're eating that now."

"Yep. Appetizer window is closed" Jack concludes as Eric bustles the platter back into the kitchen.

They dig into the pizza, Eric and Jack continuing to glare at Carter as Rachel and Cory expand upon introductions.

"Okay," Carter starts, "Let me see if I have everything now- Jeremy and Beth- together since last spring, Peter, roommate of Jeremy, Shawn friend of Peter, Cory roommate and high school best friend of Shawn"

"And current college best friend," Cory amends.

"Eric brother of Jack, and Jack brother of Shawn."

Rachel gives him a little applause and he ducks his head, "We'll see if I remember that. I'm terrible with names."

"I'm really good with names," Eric says.

"Yeah. Me too," Jack echoes.

"You're Carter," Eric says pointing at him. He and Jack high five.

Carter looks at them, back to Rachel, back at them.

"So how long have you guys been together?"

"What?" Eric asks.

Carter flicks his index finger between the two of them, "Rachel said… I thought you guys were a couple?"

Shawn can feel his lungs shut down.

Jack echoes Carter's finger flick between himself and Eric, "Us?"

"No that's not what I meant," Rachel starts quickly, "They're not the couple."

"Yeah. We're not the couple," Jack says, "Not that there would be anything wrong with it if we were. That would be totally not weird and everyone would be very accepting of it," Jack shoots Shawn a little bit of a look out of the corner of his eye and Shawn feels his heart stop beating.

"Um… okay," Carter starts, "Who was the gay couple then?"

"There's no gay couple."

"Though if there were that would-" Jack starts, Rachel cuts him off.

"When I said, 'the couple' I meant 'a couple'," Rachel amends as though this somehow helps.

Shawn wonders if he's dead.

"I'm the gay," Peter sighs, raising his hand.

"We're the couple," Jeremy and Beth announce together, raising both of their hands.

"You must have just gotten the names confused, honey," Rachel says. Carter gives her a look that seems a little disbelieving, but he lets it go.

Shawn lungs start working again.

"Honey?" Eric demands.

"Okay," Peter cuts into the conversation, "Let's start the movie."

"Yes," Beth chimes in, "Let's absolutely do that."

"Let's watch a movie and not talk at all anymore," Jeremy agrees.

* * *

When Jack and Eric both make a show of hugging Peter goodbye after the movie night, Shawn's suspicions are confirmed. Eric knows. Eric clearly let it slip to Jack, and now Shawn has to kill him. Cory ducks back in to use the bathroom and Peter and Shawn step out into the hallway as unobtrusively as possible.

"This may have been the absolute least fun anyone has ever had," Peter muses.

"Nah," Shawn sighs, "I once went fishing with my Uncle Mary after he lost an arm. Long story."

Peter blinks at him before quietly saying "So, your brother hugged me. Twice. Awkward pronouncements were made. I think we both know what that means."

"Can I pretend to be clueless and just go home and go to bed?"

"You could," Peter sighs.

"But you don't want me to."

"This isn't about what I want."

"That's so unfair there should be another word for it," Shawn grates, "You and your being completely reasonable like that."

"Fine -If you don't want to say anything, don't, we can just go home and," Peter shakes his head and corrects himself, "I can go to my dorm, and you can go home with Cory, and we can just ignore this until you're ready. But yeah, I want you to talk to your brother about this. You were planning to do it in a week anyway, and I want you to do it tonight. I want you to embrace the bizarre shit that happened tonight, and go in there and tell a bunch of people who obviously already know, and Cory, who was, shockingly, too stupid to figure it out, despite tonight, so that we never have to go through this again. That is what I want. You don't have to do it, but that is exactly what I want. How's that for reasonable?"

"What about Rachel and Carter?" Shawn asks.

"Sweetheart, I think that they know too."

Shawn sighs, steps into Peter and kisses him quickly. But not quite quickly enough. The door swings open and they don't pull apart in time.

"Oh," Jack says with a thoroughly admirable attempt at nonchalance, "Peter, you forgot your hat," He holds it out, and Peter takes it, "Umm…" Jack starts, looking between them with wide eyes, "You guys…. Have a good night."

Jack steps back inside and closes the door.

Shawn stands stunned in the hallway. Peter reaches out and puts a hand on his chest and back, almost as though he were ready to catch him if he fell.

"Shawn?"

"Did that just happen?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god."

"What do you want me to do?" Peter asks.

"I don't…"

The door clicks again, and Peter hurriedly lets go of Shawn.

"You ready to go home, Shawn?" Cory asks.

Shawn nods dully, and starts down the hallway between Peter and Cory.

If they already knew, Shawn asks himself, why is it such a big deal that they saw? If it's happening, why should he pretend it isn't, if he has no reason to think that Jack or Eric will care anymore than Angela did, why is he still pretending to this many people? If he's in love with Peter why couldn't he have just been with him tonight and actually had fun?

"You know, guys," Shawn stops before the stairs, heart pounding, legs shaking, "I'm actually going to… I'll catch up with you later, okay, I just… I'm gonna talk to Jack about something quick…. This whole Carter, thing… make sure… he's alright."

"Okay," Cory shrugs, "I'll see you later."

Peter reaches an arm out, and just when Shawn thinks he's going in for just a quick arm squeeze he pulls him into a one arm hug. Bro-ish, just oddly placed. Shawn nods and turns around.

He walks into Jack and Eric's without knocking and finds them sitting at the coffee table with the rest of both the pizza and the cheese plate. Eric is making a concise line of cheese squares on top of his pizza.

"Hello, Little Brother Shawn, what can we do for you?" Jack greets him, trying to smile. Eric folds his pizza in half and shoves half of it into his mouth.

"Jack," Shawn starts and can't figure out where to go from there, "Jack-" He tries again, still nothing, "Jack-"

"Is this about Peter?" Jack asks as Eric shoves the rest of his pizza into his mouth.

"Yes."

Jack and Eric watch him expectantly.

"Peter and I are dating," Shawn announces, feeling like a complete jackass, "We've been dating for like, the last two months."

"Okay… well….. we knew about you guys dating," Jack says. Eric gives Shawn a thumbs up and attempts to choke down more of his pizza "We are in no way wierded out and we're very supportive."

"Me more than Jack," Eric cuts in.

"Whatever, I am-"

"Okay. Awesome," Shawn preemptively cuts into the next ten minutes of argument, "Thanks… so, how did you… who-"

"I figured it out based on hickey placement," Eric says.

"Rachel saw you out with him and told us about it."

"Wait- Rachel knows too?"

"Yeah."

"No one has said anything to Cory right?"

Jack and Eric both look up at him, "No."

"Wait, Cory doesn't know?" Jack demands, "How does Cory not know?"

"He hates Peter," Eric supplies.

"Did he actually say that to you?" Shawn asks, stunned.

"No. I can just tell," Eric shakes his head and begins lining more cheese up on a piece of pizza.

"We could talk to Cory about that," Jack suggests, "As previously stated- we totally like Peter and we are glad he makes you happy."

"Me more than Jack," Eric says.

"Dude-"

"What? I've known Shawn longer than you, I know how unhappy he usually is."

"Okay," Shawn cuts them off again, "No one talks to Cory okay? I will talk to Cory, and no one else will talk to Cory. Thank you for your support, I am totally happy and... and I totally just heard Rachel moan, you guys should probably put on some music or something."

Jack and Eric wilt visibly in front of him, and Shawn leaves.

He treks home with purpose. He told two more people and even though they already knew, that still counts. He deserves a reward. He's going to go back to his room, tell Cory that he and Jack are going to do a mourning over Carter brother type thing and that he'll be staying in the apartment, grab some stuff and stay with Peter tonight.

* * *

Cory's already in his pajamas when Shawn walks in, the whole hanging out with his friends and watching a movie thing had been a pretty big letdown. He's ready for the night to be over, but he just… he needs to talk to Shawn about this weird sophomores thing.

"Hey. How are Jack and Eric?" Cory asks as Shawn walks in.

"A little shattered in the delusions," Shawn replies, "Crushed because of it. I'm gonna go-"

"Can we talk about something quick, before you take off again?" Cory starts.

"Uh, sure… talk about what?" Shawn heads toward his backpack and his underwear drawer and starts throwing together an overnight bag.

"Peter," Cory says. He was right, Shawn visibly stiffens.

"Umm… okay, what…what about him?"

"Look, I just…" Cory sighs, sitting down in his desk chair, "I don't think you guys are on the same page… you know what I mean?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"He… I know you're all into doing your cool hanging with the sophomore's thing, but I think… I think Peter thinks that you'll eventually…"

"What?"

"I think he's hanging out with you hoping that he'll get a chance to you know…  _be_  with you, and I don't think he'll stick around when he realizes that's not going to happen. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"That's crap, Cory," Shawn says without turning around.

"Come on, I just… I don't want you to get to that point,"

"Am I supposed to be afraid that he's going to make a move on me? Who cares if he did?" Shawn stammers as he shovels a few more things into his bag now, gripping the strap in one hand and picking and dropping with his other hand.

"No- I mean you're… I don't know what the hell you're doing, but you're never here, and I think you should be aware of…. how that could fall apart. Don't tell me you haven't even though that Peter's interest isn't you know…  _interest_. The first time he was here he tried to kiss you, man."

Shawn pushes his underwear drawer shut and opens his wardrobe, "So what?"

"What do you mean 'so what'?" Cory demands. He's not sure where Shawn's falling behind on this whole concept.

Shawn says, his voice catching in his throat a little as he says it, "Who cares if he had a crush on me and don't you think that thinking that he'd only hang out with me in an attempt to date me is …. Kind of douchey? You sound really homophobic right now."

"And you sound like Peter," Cory says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, since when does Shawn say douche? "This isn't about him and the gay thing. You've totally shipped out with your cool sophomore friends, which by the way is something you never would have done when we were younger, and now you're always gone. Even tonight, do you think we spoke at all tonight? Could we have even tried to have a night just us and Eric and Jack? No, it had to be Peter and his freaky roommate and the girl he found in his knitting club."

"I 'shipped out'?" Shawn snaps, finally spinning around to face Cory, "You've been on the phone with Topanga since AUGUST, I went out and met Peter and Jeremy because I hadn't spoken to you in weeks. We didn't stop hanging out because of Peter, we stopped hanging out because of you!" Shawn shoves his stuff down in his back and zips it shut.

"Topanga is my girlfriend!" Cory spits back, "Do you have any idea how hard a long distance relationship is?"

"No, and neither do you,"

"She's in Connec-"

"You don't have any distance, you haven't gone anywhere. Topanga's been trying to get you to do the same college stuff I've been trying to get you to do, get you to move on, get you to grow up, but you just sit in this room You're like this lonely broken little Topanga-less shell and maybe I don't want to hang out with that guy. Maybe I want my best friend back too. Maybe I've got shit going on in my life too and I need you around!"

"You always have shit going on in your life, what is so different about now? What, you and Angela are having another one of your "oh dear no one ever loved me" freak outs? What is your big tragedy of the month?" Cory has crossed the line. He knows this even without Shawn's expression. If Shawn hauls off and hits him right now he has it coming and he knows it.

"You know what?" Shawn starts, "Forget it. I don't need this from you. I don't need this from the guy who is supposed to be my best friend," he lays the sneer on that heavily, "Fuck you Cory. I'm going up to Peter's," he zips his bag and grabs his shower stuff and keys, and storms to the door.

"Shawn-"

"No, forget it," Shawn repeats, "You know what? I'm going to go to Peter's for Thanksgiving too and I'll just hope real hard that he doesn't make a move and realize that his sinister plan couldn't have worked. And if my tragedy of the month is so distracting to your phone and internet stalking, maybe I'll just talk to res life and ditch you all the way?"

"You gonna move in with Peter?" Cory snaps, too angry to pull out now.

Shawn spins around at the door and snarls back, "No, see he lives with his best friend, and they get along."

Shawn slams the door behind him, and Cory stomps over to it and kicks it so hard he's pretty sure he's broken his foot. He hops back to his bed, picks up his phone and has Topanga's number half dialed before he realizes that maybe Shawn was right. He growls and throws it across the room. It hits Shawn's pillows with a weak thump.

* * *

This is a total waste of an empty room, Peter thinks to himself, digging his phone out of his pocket. He wonders if he should text Shawn or just wait for a little while. He texts Shawn a lot. He doesn't want to seem clingy.

Well, he shrugs, Jack and Eric will probably think it's cute, and Shawn could probably use a little more clinging in his life. He pulls his phone out and starts tapping out a message.

There's a knock at the door before he finishes. He tosses the phone onto the bed and goes to answer it. Shawn's standing there with his back pack. Peter pulls him in, gives him a hug that Shawn pulls right back out of, and sets Shawn's back pack against the bed as Shawn starts to just rage.

Peter nods along, and doesn't once call Cory a name or do his disapproving hmm, even though it takes some effort. That kid is such a douche. Shawn goes back over a few of his more worn complaints about Cory and even pulls out a few totally unrelated high school stories that have nothing to do with anything, but get caught up in the tangent.

When Shawn's finally quiet, and no longer running a track into the floor, Peter just holds out his hand, and pulls Shawn down to sit on his bed. He kisses him on the cheek, then squats down on the floor, unties Shawn's shoes, and pulls them off before sitting back down next to Shawn again.

Shawn pulls Peter's face to his and kisses him.

"How did things go with Jack and Eric?"

"It was a little… anticlimactic," Shawn sighs.

"That's a good thing though, right?" Peter asks, running a hand over Shawn's shoulder. Shawn pulls closer to him.

"Peter?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm in love with you," Shawn whispers.

Peter's heart jumps, the guilt pokes him menacingly in the stomach, and Shawn's big brown eyes are burning into him. He leans forward and kisses him. He had wanted to tell Shawn about the thing with Anthony before they got this far, but there's just never a good time and right now is probably the worst opportunity yet.

"I'm in love with you too, Shawn," he kisses him again and they shift down on the bed, arms wrapped loosely around each other. He'll tell Shawn later. That he loves Shawn is more important and that's what Shawn needs to hear after being outted to half the people he knows and then getting into a fight.

"Is that invitation for Thanksgiving still open?"

"Of course."

"I'd love to meet your mother."

"I wish I was as enthusiastic about her meeting you," Peter drawls, as Shawn's eyes slip shut, "She's going to spend all weekend trying to get you to eat things and trying to get you to do poetry readings in the living room and pulling out my childhood photos. It's going to be humiliating."

"You brought up the poetry," Shawn groans.

"She asked for a three sentence description."

"What did you say?"

"Beautiful eyes and laugh. Hates math but writes poetry. Killer hair flip," Peter runs a finger back through Shawn's hair. He's been letting it grow out.

Shawn snorts. After a sleepy pause he asks, "Beautiful?"

"In a manly way."

Shawn chuckles and pulls himself a little closer to Peter's chest, "I'm not going to bring poetry."

"I know. It's a big secretive thing," Peter wraps an arm around Shawn, loving the way that Shawn nestles into him like this.

"I'll let you read one," Shawn whispers.

"I'd like that."

For a little while all Peter hears is Shawn's heartbeat and breathing. He listens to both settle and steady. He kisses Shawn's forehead, and then lies there, listening to the other boy sleep.

 


	13. In Which Everyone Goes Home

Shawn digs through his bag again, double checking everything, he's already being put up in what sounds like a full house from Tuesday night to Sunday night and he'll just be embarrassed if he has to ask to borrow a toothbrush or have Peter take him to the mall for new underwear.

"Are you nervous about this, sweetheart?" Peter asks gently, taking Shawn's elbow loosely in his hand.

"I'm not nervous," Shawn lies through his teeth, "I just want to make sure I'm not forgetting anything important."

"You can be nervous you know," Peter said, "You don't have to be, but I won't be offended if you are."

Shawn pulls his elbow from Peter's hand and sets his hand to Peter's waist, "The only girlfriend whose parent I ever met was Dana Pruitt because her mom came to pick her up when I was living with my English teacher," he's not sure why this feels like such an admission, he told Peter he spent a long time with a guardian rather than an actual parent, he told Peter that he's not really the kind of guy that girls bring home, "I never even met Angela's parents."

Peter kisses his forehead, and for some reason, it gives Shawn a quiet shiver down his back "And I'm nervous about being introduced to your family as your boyfriend."

"I promise you don't have to be nervous about that," Peter kisses him again and Shawn allows himself be tugged down on the bed and kissed further, "My parents want to meet you, my brothers want to meet you, my sister in law want to meet you. You are wanted in my house."

Shawn finds himself shivering a little at that too- 'you are wanted in my house'.

"So where am I sleeping?" Shawn asked.

"Probably the pull out on the porch," Peter told him, "But I know the exact location of every squeaky floor board, and my parents aren't exactly going to be watching out for us."

"I have to sleep on the porch?"

"It's a year round porch," Peter says, he rolls on top of Shawn a little bit and kisses his neck lightly.

"Hey, now," Shawn pushes Peter half heartedly, "I thought we were supposed to be on the road by now?"'

"We could leave and beat rush hour, or we could wait an hour and miss rush hour," he kisses Shawn again, "And the couch on the porch is just so far away from my room-"

"We get fed if we leave now right?" Shawn asked.

"You're going to get fed if we get home at freaking midnight, sweetheart," Peter laughs, squeezing his hands around Shawn's skinny waist.

Shawn yanks them away, "Shut up, you're as thin as I am."

"I'm lithe," Peter says, "You're skinny."

"I'm not skinny, I'm wiry," Shawn protests.

"It's okay. I just love your skinny little body," Peter laughs tugging at Shawn's shirt. Shawn puts his hands on top of Peter's as though he's going to push them away again, but he's about to give in when the door flies open.

"Oh shit," Jeremy sighs, "I thought you guys were leaving right after Peter's class?"

"We got distracted," Peter smirks at Jeremy and lifts himself off of Shawn, who has been caught by Jeremy in a similar position too many times since Saturday to be embarrassed this time. Shawn sits up and finally gets a good look at Jeremy.

"Besides," Peter's smirk deepens, "This is my favorite part of school breaks."

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Jeremy seethes, "This is all your fault. Before my mother ran into your father at that stupid business conference and he told her I had a gay roommate, I still got away with clothes I didn't look like such a jackass in," he tugs unhappily at his green T-shirt and carpenter jeans, like a toddler who has been joyfully running around in his Halloween costume all summer and now is being forced into his new school clothes, "How do I look?"

Bizarre, is Shawn's first honest thought. He's been staying in Peter and Jeremy's room since his and Cory's blow out on Saturday, so he's seen Jeremy without his full make up, but even when Jeremy comes back to the room from washing his face at night, he's still got a decent amount of left over eyeliner ringing his eyes and he sleeps in a satin purple nightshirt that makes him look like a vampire. He went to class this morning in black and green eye shadow and red lipstick, and now it would be impossible to tell he'd ever worn make up. Even his hair, which Shawn's never thought of as that extreme, has been left to dry without being combed and waxed and now lies on his head like brunette laundry lint.

"I've never seen you in a T-shirt," Shawn offers.

"You're not helping," Jeremy sighs.

"I don't get why you put yourself through this every break, man," Peter shakes his head, "Come out of the startlingly black and lacy closet, my friend."

"You don't see the big deal because your mom is like a hug made of chocolate chip cookies and my parents are like dirty martinis in crystal glasses. Dirty Martinis who hang their fucking tuition money over my head," he concludes melodramatically.

"My mom is not a cookie hug," Peter protests.

"My entire family is like absentee criminals," Shawn offers with a shrug, "If it helps."

Jeremy casts him his impatient look, it lacks punch without at least a little eyeliner.

"When I was fifteen my uncle Mike hired me to help out in his auto shop, I spent my first week filing off registration numbers."

"Wait, really?" Peter asks.

Shawn nods, "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell your mom that."

"I can hear her now," Jeremy scoffs, "Well… he sounds colorful."

"That's not what my mom is like. Shut up. I can see your whitey tidy's. Put on a belt."

"I don't have any belts for these ridiculous pants!" Jeremy cries waving in despair at his jeans, which Shawn suspects are the exact same brand that he is wearing himself.

"You are such a drama queen," Peter sighs, turns to his wardrobe, pulls out a belt and hands it to Jeremy who looks at it with distaste before beginning to loop it through his belt loops.

"Has Beth seen you like this?" Shawn asks.

"Yeah," Jeremy tightens the belt as though it has personally wronged him, "She posed for a couple pictures with me like this."

"That was nice of her," Peter says. He pulls his and Shawn's bags off the floor, hands Shawn his bag, and grabs his car keys off his desk.

"Well…she's a goddess," Jeremy looks at himself sadly in the mirror again, "I look like you now," he whines.

"Welcome to the dark side," Peter says, slapping Jeremy on the shoulder as he crosses toward the door and opens it, "Shawn, you ready?"

Shawn nods and follows him out to the hall.

"Jeremy, good luck with your dirty martini parents and pedestrian clothes. Have a good Thanksgiving. Feel free to dig through my clothes if you want."

"Yeah, Thanks," Jeremy sighs, "You guys have a good break too."

"So he does this every break?" Shawn asks.

"Oh yeah," Peter says, "Last year, his father dropped by after a meeting, surprise visit, he actually stopped Jeremy and asked him for directions to his sons' dorm- didn't recognize him. Jeremy gave him directions, went around to the other door and was scrubbed down, redressed and outside to nonchalantly run into him by the time his father called to be let up."

Shawn nods, "That sucks."

"Yep," Peter agrees. Suddenly, less out of nowhere than Shawn would prefer, Peter pulls Shawn over and brushes his lips over his temple.

"So… auto shop huh?" Peter asks.

"Yeah."

"At any point during this job were you shirtless and greasy in anyway?"

Shawn rolls his eyes and shoves Peter, then slips his palm into Peter's when Peter laughs.

* * *

Cory's at home with a fridge full of ingredients for the exact same thing that his mother makes every year for Thanksgiving. The smell of popcorn hangs in the air, Eric and their father are in the living room catching the tail end of some action movie. Cory's in the kitchen with his mother, anxiously awaiting Topanga's arrival and helping to chop some herbs for the turkey marinade.

"So Shawn's really not coming for Thanksgiving this year?" his mom asks for the second time.

"Nope. He's really not," Cory sighed, "He's really off with his stupid friend Peter, doing whatever it is they do in the boonies."

"Well, I'm sorry you two fought," Amy says as Eric wanders in for a popcorn refill.

Cory begins chopping the cilantro into oblivion, "He stayed at Jack and Eric's all week. I came back to the room this afternoon and some of his stuff was gone. He must have stopped in during my class so that he didn't have to talk to me."

"You'll get through this, Cory. But maybe you should realize that Shawn's always had some trouble making friends and maybe the best thing for you to do right now is try to get along with the other people that like him," Amy councils, "The more the merrier and all that?"

"Yeah, man," Eric chimes in as he gets his popcorn, "Peter's good people. He and Jack had a class together last year. He was in my orientation group. We know him. We like him."

"Well, he hates me."

"You did throw him out of your room by his shirt, man," Eric says.

"You did what?" Amy demands, "Cory Matth-"

Cory interrupts with the story of the whiskey bottle yet again, "What was I supposed to think?"

"So Shawn's friend is-" Amy starts.

Eric and Cory both answer with "Yeah." Eric shrugs and Cory gestures emphatically.

"Huh," Amy says and goes back to chopping, "Well, you should try to get along with him. I know it's always kind of been you and Shawn but it wouldn't hurt you to widen your experiences a little bit either. That's what college is all about."

"Did Shawn say anything about what happened to you?" Cory asks Eric.

Eric shrugs and looks pensive as he chews the enormous handful of popcorn he's just shoved into his mouth.

"No," he answers finally, taking his popcorn back into the living room.

Finally there's a knock at the door. Cory leaps off the stool, flings the door open and is standing on the freezing back patio in his bare feet, clenching Topanga to his chest.

"Hi Cory."

Suddenly everything is just… good again.

* * *

"Here we are," Peter announces as he parks the car, "What do you think?"

"This is not what I was expecting," Shawn answers truthfully.

The yard is enormous, with patches of dry stalks that must be little gardens in the summer scattered throughout the orange and red carpet of fallen leaves from the trees that encircle the yard and house. Peter's family's impressive collection of lawn statues all gleam orangely in the blaze of the setting sun. A quartet of gnomes circles one of the larger trees. Faeries and other happy concrete creatures spot the yard. Three of the larger gardens have their own birdbaths. Several of the large trees have brightly colored bird houses nailed to them.

The house itself is probably the same size as Cory's, maybe just a little bit bigger. It's buttery yellow with clean white trim and a front porch whose worn and mossy wood has seen better days. A cheerful sign hanging off one of the posts declares this to be the Macdonald Residence.

"Yeah. It's a little much," Peter shrugs, "When we were younger the neighbors tried to put together a neighborhood covenant that banned yard decorations other than one bird bath of such and such a height, and Mom was so pissed the she bought an army of pink flamingos. It looked like our yard was under a pink plastic cloud."

"What happened to the flamingos?"

"Josh and I sent some of them on missions to other people's yards," Peter shrugs stepping out of the car, "Mr. Kearny was the biggest pain about it. We set up "Flamingo Ballet" in his front yard once when he was on vacation. Mrs. Frandsen thought they were cute, so Josh and I set up "Flamingo Stake Out" in her yard," Peter laughs, "That was Josh's idea. We had them peeking their heads out of bushes and wearing sunglasses and stuff. One winter we set up a gnome on a sled with a sled dog team of flamingos. She made us a pie for that."

"You really do have to make your own fun this far from the city don't you?"

Peter moves to elbow Shawn in the ribs playfully and Shawn nearly trips over a statue of a girl holding a big white moon when he ducks it. Peter grabs his hand.

"You ready for this?" Peter asks just as the front door swings open and two heads that must belong to brothers pop out of it.

"Peter! You're holding up dinner!"

"It's too late to change my mind now," Shawn answers.

Inside Peter's house is a flurry of greeting and hugging. As soon as they get their coats off they are being pulled from the entry way into the living room and Shawn is introduced to, and consequently bear-hugged by, every member of Peter's family, including an attempt at a bear hug by Peter's nephew, a tiny tow headed boy with macaroni and cheese in his hair. The nephew seems to be a little confused about what they are doing though, as his version of a hug is to growl and head-butt Shawn from his mother's arms. Shawn is passed to Peter's mother last, who, as he was warned she would, hugs Shawn and immediately declares-

"What on earth are they feeding you at that school!" she puts her hands to his ribs and pinches a little, "Freshman fifteen my ass!"

"Sharon, seriously, language in front of Gwydion," The oldest brother's wife, a willowy blonde in a loose top sighs with aggravation. Shawn cannot remember her name.

"Sorry, dear. Peter, put your coats away. Shawn, Peter'll show you the porch after dinner. We've got chicken pot pie, made from scratch, ready to come out of the oven."

"Wow, you made chicken pot pie from scratch?" Shawn asks, he's not even sure what that would entail, having never seen a chicken pot pie that didn't come directly out of the freezer section at a gas station, but he assumes it's impressive.

"No, I don't cook the whole week before Thanksgiving," Mrs. Macdonald laughs.

"We did," Peter's father and the second oldest brother, Luke, claim.

Shawn winds up sitting between Peter and Luke's fiancé, Vicky, already a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people crammed into the house and just how much pot pie Peter's mom is piling onto his plate.

"That's fine," Shawn says, resisting the urge to reach out and cover his plate with his hands.

Mrs. MacDonald puts another half piece onto his plate anyway and says, "You're right, you want to save some room for desert."

She gives Peter's plate the same treatment, but Shawn's seen Peter stack more food than that on his plate before.

"Now, honey, what would you like to drink? Red wine? White? Beer?" Mrs. MacDonald asks him after she's sent the pan of pot pie around.

"We've got Sprite," Peter interjects casually. Shawn feels his shoulders untense immediately.

"Oh, I'll have a Sprite," Shawn says.

"I'll grab us some," Peter gets up from his chair and head for the kitchen,

"Peter, could you grab me one too?" The oldest brother's wife… Rhiannon asks.

"Sure."

The dinner conversation rattles on and Shawn has to admit the feeling of being overwhelmed isn't really going away, though the pot pie is helping. His own family for the most part, got along. Every once in a while there was a screaming match, or someone's location 'accidentally' got reported to the police, or there was an argument over money, or someone stole someone else's car… okay so maybe his family didn't really get along that well… but they were family dammit, and despite the problems and frequent absence of his own, Shawn had been raised on the importance of family. He wondered uncomfortably how differently those maxims about the importance of family would have sounded in this environment.

* * *

"Cory," Topanga groans, dropping her head back onto Cory's shoulder, "That was a really stupid thing to say."

Cory wraps his arms tighter around her, amazed at how relieved he is to just… smell her hair, hold her hands in his, feel her weight in his lap, "I know. I know it was… it's just… It's so frustrating. I'm worried about him. I'm the one who has to go after him when he runs away and tries to move to Texas, or joins a cult, or nearly smashes up a teacher's motorcycle," Topanga begins running her hand over Cory's forearm, "And he's doing the same thing now, where he pulls away from everything, but I'm not allowed to be worried about him, because Peter keeps pulling the gay card."

"Well," Topanga starts, "You did tell Shawn you were worried about Peter having a crush on him."

Cory sighs and pulls Topanga a little closer, "I didn't mean it the way he took it."

"How did you mean it?" Topanga asked.

Cory shifts under her a little bit, "It's a little weird how much of his time Peter's taking up. Shawn doesn't date anymore, I haven't seen him in months… Peter's… sort of isolating him from everything else. Come on, Topanga, that's a little creepy."

"Didn't Shawn accuse you of being the same way with me?"

"That's completely different. Plus Peter's friends are just awful, Peter's a little rough around the edges and there's something going on with Angela and Shawn won't tell me what it is."

"Yeah, she won't tell me what it is either. But it sounds like they're on the phone together a lot. Maybe he's just figuring things out. You guys have had a pretty big paradigm shift."

"Paradigm shift? Is that Yale speak?"

"Your lives have changed. You aren't good at that, you're having a hard time, and Shawn's reaction to change is to go overboard and try and change himself even further. You sit at crossroads and refuse to move, and Shawn barrels down a path without looking in front of him. That's why you balance each other out. Every once in a while Shawn drags you with him and you keep him from getting to far from the track."

Cory tightens his grip on her again.

"Cory, if I suggest something do you promise not to freak out?"

"I'll try. That's all I can promise."

"Is it at all possible that you're just a little jealous?"

"Of Peter?" Cory scoffs.

"A little bit of everything. Shawn's having an easier time with college than you are, Shawn's making other friends. Are you sure you don't just feel… a little left out?"

Cory's quiet for a moment and then he kisses her cheek, "Maybe a little," he admits, trying to hide the slight strain in his voice.

"Call Shawn. Apologize. Work this out with your best friend."

Cory kisses her, "I didn't think that everything would be so different with you gone, Topanga. I'm… I'm not good at things when you're not here."

"Christmas break is only a month away. I'll be home for three weeks," she tells him gently, pulling away from him just a little bit. He lets her go and she sits up and kisses him, "I'm going to get something to eat. Call Shawn."

* * *

"Tah dah," Peter announces, setting Shawn's bag on the couch on the porch, "I'll show you how to unfold the bed later, otherwise you'll just be edging around it all night," he sits down on the couch next to Shawn, "What do you think?"

"I think if your mom keeps feeding me like this you're going to have to roll me out to your car on Sunday."

Peter chuckles, "I'll tell her to lay off."

"Thanks for the Sprite thing."

"Yeah. I forgot about that whole deal. Sorry. I can tell her you don't drink if you want."

"No, that's okay."

Peter kissed his cheek again, and Shawn suddenly realized how much more affectionate he'd been since the whole L-word thing, "So what do you want to do now?"

"I don't know. What do you guys usually do?"

"No real plans tonight. After Thanksgiving we bowl. Friday we usually do Scrabble or something. Mark and Rhiannon are putting Gwydion down. I think Luke and Josh were talking about playing basketball out on the driveway."

"I don't think I'm up for basketball," Shawn admits, one hand on his stomach.

"You wanna go for a walk with me? I'll show you my school and what not?"

"Yeah, okay."

"I'll go get your coat."

"I can get my own coat."

"Not if my mother sees you."

"Okay."

Peter goes off to get his coat and Shawn digs into his back pack. Overwhelming is starting to turn to giddy and he wants to share it with someone. He'll just text Angela quick. He forgot to wish her a safe trip anyway.

He's still digging in his bag when Peter comes back.

"Shit, I forgot my phone," he says, grabbing his jacket from Peter.

"You can use mine if you need it."

Shawn shrugs, "Never mind. This wasn't an emergency."

Peter extends his hand, "Come on."


	14. In Which Peter Tells A Story

"It smells like snow," Peter points out as he and Shawn meander down the street.

"Mm," Shawn agrees. The sky is patched in orange and gray and the air has that sharp, wet sort of feeling. Peter reaches out and twines their fingers.

"So, what do you think?" Peter asks.

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" Shawn laughs.

Peter shrugs, "I don't know… you said you never meet your boyfr- girlfriend's parents. I'm about to family you pretty hard. I'm just… checking."

"I don't know…" Shawn tells him, "It's fine. Jeremy may have been right. You're mom may in fact be a cookie hug."

"Okay, you think that now, but you just wait until tomorrow when she and Aunt Gloria and Gramma Lois take over the kitchen. That ought to dispel this cookie hug nonsense."

"Wait," Shawn clarifies, "There are even more people coming to Thanksgiving?"

"Four aunts, three uncles and eight cousins," Peter answers.

"Holy shit," Shawn exclaims, "And you're just bringing this up now?"

Peter shrugs, "What? It's a family holiday. Does it matter?"

"It's just a lot of people," Shawn says, "And they all…. Know about you… and me?"

"Yeah," Peter says slowly, "I mean… it's not like I made an announcement or anything… but I think they'll all put two and two together," The road they are on passes a park and Peter tugs Shawn off the sidewalk and into the field, heading toward the jungle gym.

"Was your family always this… calm about you?" Shawn asks.

"Sort of. I mean… yeah, it was awkward at first. It's still awkward with my aunt Mary and uncle Tony… people got over it."

"How did you come out?" Shawn asks realizing suddenly that he and Peter have never actually talked about it. Peter's mentioned it, but they've never actually had a full discussion about it.

"Umm… suddenly," Peter tells him, dropping onto one of the jungle gym platforms.

"Right after basketball started…. And that's all I know.

"Ugh, okay," Peter succumbs, "It's embarrassing."

"It's just me," Shawn smiles.

Peter kisses him, sighs, and starts, "Okay. So I had just made the basketball team, thus cementing my place in the in crowd. I was popular, I was athletic… for a skinny fourteen year old I was probably some variation on handsome and my girlfriend was-"

"You had a girlfriend?" Shawn laughs, he's never heard about her.

Peter shrugs, "This was a long time ago. So my  _girlfriend,_ " Peter sticks his tongue out at Shawn, "And I were going to this school dance, and then the popular kids were all going back to her house, because her parents were out of town. So, one of the other guys, I don't remember his name anymore, his brother got us some vodka. Like a 40 of vodka. So when we got back to her house a few people got toasted and invited over way more people than she had okay'ed."

"What was her name? The girlfriend?" Shawn asks.

"Donna Mardolos," Peter answers, "She had long blonde hair, and the rumor was that she only wore black underwear."

"Was it true?" Shawn asked.

Peter laughs, "I'm getting there. So the party gets going, a couple of people are just blitzed, most people are just faking it. The music's blasting, the lights are dimmed and a bunch of people start making out on her couch. Just sloppy horny crazy. And I am really uncomfortable. I mean… I had been starting to figure out that… I didn't like Donna the way she liked me, and I'm suddenly realizing that this is not how Donna and I make out and I would really be perfectly happy to shake her hand and go home."

"Were you drinking?"

"I wasn't drunk… I'd gotten the bottle a couple of times. So it's getting hot and heavy in the basement, and Donna asks me if I want to go upstairs. And I'm relieved until it turns out she meant, 'up to her room' So we're making out, and she takes her shirt off. Red bra by the way."

Shawn whistles, Peter smacks his arm.

"She's half naked, all over me, and I'm just clinging onto her elbows," Peter mimes holding onto something, as though for dear life, "trying to keep her bra from like… popping off."

Shawn laughs out loud.

"Shut the fuck up," Peter scoffs, "I was fourteen. It could have happened. How would I know? So she pulls out of this terrifying death grip that I'm holding her in, takes my shirt off, I know everyone in the basement is probably just as naked, and I'm fucking terrified and  _I'm the only one._ "

"What happened?"

"She popped my fly open and stuck her hand in my underwear and I just freaked out. I told her I thought I'd drunk too much and was going to be sick, grabbed my clothes and my coat and I was halfway down the block before I even put my shoes on. This is in November, by the way."

"Peter," Shawn leans into him and Peter kisses his temple.

"So I found a pay phone, and called Luke to come get me. He picks me up, and I'm just a mess. I'm drunk, I'm nearly in tears, I've got one bloody foot and my clothes are all buttoned back together wrong and I'm like, 'fuck, Luke, I think I'm gay."

"What did he say?"

Peter scoffs and smiles, "'No Shit. A girl grabbing your pecker is supposed to be a good thing'."

Shawn squeezes his hand a little tighter.

"Mark had an apartment on the other side of town at the point, so Luke took me there to sober me up, and we called Josh and he drove over and we all stayed up and they kind of made me walk them through it. Weirdly… it was okay. I mean… for a group of teenage guys they took it pretty well. I've always kind of thought it was because I was the baby and they were used to taking care of me."

"What about your parents?"

"They found out later in the week. This was a couple years before the artsy girls started thinking it would be cool to have a gay accessory. So Donna had a bunch of people prank my house. You know 'your kid's a big queer' 'did you know your fridge…wait I mean fag is running' real high quality comedy like that. Donna had already told so many people that I was gay that it was almost easier to just be like "Yeah, what about it?" right away, even though I totally didn't feel like it. So I ended up doing the same thing with my family. Turns out my mom's first apartment she split with a gay couple and it was all very bohemian. She didn't care. My dad had a few gay work associates and at least I was still a jock. He got over it pretty quickly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I think he was upset for all of five minutes. They just weren't that surprised. I'd been dating Donna for like… three weeks. If that. I obviously wasn't into her. I knew I'd never been interested in the whole… girl thing. They knew too."

Shawn sighs and Peter extricates his hand from Shawn's grip and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"See, that's why I think it's… that's what I think it was so hard to tell Angela about us, and why I was so freaked about Jack and Eric finding out and why I can't tell Cory. Your family… they weren't surprised, you were young and didn't have…" Shawn trails off and tries to reorganize his thoughts.

"Didn't have what?" Peter asks.

"If someone… totally impartial, whose opinion didn't matter, but who I had to tell the absolute truth to, were to ask me how I… see myself-"

"The GLBT kids are calling it 'self-identify' these days," Peter says, snarking quietly.

"Exactly. I kind of…" Shawn sighs, "This sounds so stupid, and it sounded stupid last time… but I'm just… I'm just not gay. I'm not a BLT kid-"

"-Shawn," Peter snorts. Shawn carries on.

"Everyone who knows me knows I'm not gay. And I don't think there's anything wrong with being gay… obviously…I'm just… not. Can you be bisexual for one person?"

Peter shakes his head, "I think you have to be bisexual for at least two people, sweetheart."

Shawn rolls his eyes at him, "You know what I mean. I would, obviously the immediate moment not withstanding, be pretty much thrilled if a pretty girl stuck her hand in my pants… and I wasn't… terrified when you kissed me that first time… but I was a little weirded out. I stopped you," Shawn moves Peter's arm from loose over his shoulders to tight around his waist, "If you'd stuck your hand in my pants at that point I would've freaked out."

"So… what are you saying?" Peter asks.

"I think what I'm trying to say… is that… I'm not going to try to figure this out anymore. I think I'm just going to go with Beth's explanation. I'm just going to be the Straight Boyfriend."

"You still love me, right?" Peter laughs. Shawn turns his head and kisses him.

"Of course."

"Then having a straight boyfriend works for me."

"There is no freaking way I can explain that to Cory, though."

"You worry too much about Cory," Peter says.

Shawn opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again before finally quietly asking "How awful was it to get kicked out of your crowd like that?"

Peter tightens his grip around Shawn's waist, "Awful."

"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like, if you had just pretended to-"

"No," Peter answers immediately, then sighs, "Sometimes. But… as awful as it was…I know it was for the best. That whole jocks and popular kids thing was really superficial. It took a while, but at least I wound up with some friends who cared about something other than my hair and my scoring average."

Shawn doesn't say anything in response.

"Cory's not even capable of being that cruel to you, you know that," Peter whispers eventually.

"No. I know," Shawn admits, "I just have my doubts about whether or not he's capable of getting it. Cory doesn't do well with gray areas."

"I should never have said I thought Cory was homophobic," Peter sighs, "I was just pissed, I didn't mean to freak you out like this."

"It's not your fault, and I'm still not saying his homophobic… he just… he doesn't get that things change. He's been dating the same girl since ninth grade, he'd been eating at the same restaurant since like fourth grade. And I've been running around him doing the girl thing since… seventh or sixth grade? No offense, but this would probably be easier if I was just gay. That I could at least explain. You know? 'Hey Cor. Turns out the reason I never settled down with a girl is that I was just on the wrong track, should have been looking for guys this whole time. This is Peter. Isn't he cute? But that's not really how it is."

"You don't think I'm cute?"

"You are handsome and well featured," Shawn scoffs. Peter pinches him.

"Do me a favor okay?" Peter asks, "Don't worry about Cory for the rest of the weekend. Let's just put it off the radar for a little while. Concentrate on the family thing. Concentrate not being in Philadelphia. Couple days without class, couple days without homework. Just you," he kisses Shawn's chin above his scarf, "Just me. Right?"

"Okay."

As they walk home, it slowly, softly, begins to snow.

* * *

Over the years, between Alan, three children, and the occasional unannounced friend, neighbor or girlfriend, Amy has boiled Thanksgiving dinner down to a masterpiece of efficiency. Everything is ready to go, just add heat, whipped cream, or can opener.

The turkey is defrosted, stuffed, and slowly roasting in the oven with 20 minutes left before she has to baste again. The regular potatoes are chopped and boiling, nearly read to be mashed. The green bean casserole is in its cake dish and ready to go into the oven to reheat the second the turkey comes out. So is the casserole dish of sweet potatoes, which is slated for the microwave after last year's sweet potato failure had proven that the oven just wasn't big enough for sweet potatoes. Scalloped corn is bubbling sluggishly in the crock pot.

The rolls are pre-cut, the white wine is chilling in the refrigerator, the red wine is remaining room temperature next to the refrigerator. The pumpkin pie is in the refrigerator, and so is the whip cream.

Thanksgiving. Check and check.

Amy breathes a sigh of relief and grabs the already open, non-thanksgiving wine from the fridge for her post-preparation, pre-Thanksgiving dinner glass.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Topanga asks again, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she steps into the kitchen. Cory trails in behind her, looking happy for the first time in months. Amy sighs, takes a gulp from her wine glass and pretends to look around for something for Topanga to do.

"Uhhh…" Amy starts, with a shrug, "No. I think I've get everything ready to go for today."

"Green Bean Casserole?" Cory asks. Amy nods.

"Yep, hamburger, cream of mushroom and green beans, all ready to go."

Topanga's face falls, "Oh."

"It's okay, Topanga, if you're really set on helping you can help me clean up," Amy takes another sip of wine.

"No… I just," Topanga starts awkwardly, "I'm a vegetarian now. Again. But it's fine," she waves a hand dismissively, "I'll just have some salad and the other side dishes. I can still have the other things. Potatoes. Sweet potatoes. Corn and cranberries."

"There are bacon bits in the sweet potatoes," Cory tells her, as though she should already know that. Amy takes another sip from her wine glass. Shit.

"Okay. No problem. Potatoes, Corn, Cranberries."

"There's hamburger fat in the corn," Amy sighs.

Topanga hesitates for a second, "Okay. Well… potatoes and cranberries and salad. That'll be fine," she folds her hands in front of her, "Oh, and rolls. I can eat the rolls."

"We usually mix the gravy into the potatoes," Cory says, "But hey, we'll just separate some out for you. That's alright, right?"

"That's fine," Topanga nods.

"There's no salad," Amy says, wondering why Topanga would assume there would be.

"Potatoes. Cranberries. Rolls," Topanga nods again, her sad attempt at a smile turning into pursed lips. Cory's face falls for a moment, and then Amy sees his jaw set.

"I'll get your coat," he says, setting his hand to Topanga's shoulder, "We'll go to the grocery store. Get you… a vegetarian option."

"Cory, it's the morning of Thanksgiving," Topanga protests, "We can't go to the grocery store, we'll get killed."

"You trust me with a list?" Cory asks with a smile and goes to get their coats.

* * *

"Shawn…Shawn?"

Shawn wakes to a gentle shaking and the smell of coffee. Peter's sitting by him holding a mug and wearing pajamas that Shawn's never seen. When he stays with Peter they either sleep naked or Peter wears this ratty blue t-shirt and a pair of jersey shorts. This is like a little flannel suit.

"Hey," Shawn yawns, "Were you out logging?"

"Happy Thanksgiving," Peter ignores him, holding up a plate of toast "No one is allowed in the kitchen past eight in the morning on Thanksgiving, but I managed to slip into the kitchen with my aunt Gloria and get this for you."

"What time is it?" Shawn asks, sitting up and grabbing the mug.

"A little after nine," Peter tells him.

"When does the rest of your family get here?"

"They're already here."

Shawn jolts, nearly spilling his coffee, "Your entire family is already here, and you were going to just let me stay out here and wander into the living room in my pajamas?"

"Mom wanted to let you sleep in. Apparently, in addition to looking too skinny, you also seem too tired."

"And how is she not a cookie hug, again?"

Peter kisses his forehead, "Get dressed. Come meet my family."

Peter ducks out the door in his lumberjack pajamas and Shawn climbs out from under the astonishing pile of blankets that Peter's mom had procured for him. It hadn't even been that cold out last night, despite the snow, but he'd used all of them. He'd kind of liked the weight. He stretched, climbed off the hide-a-bed, and went over to the window to peek out the shade.

It was a grayish sort of day, little black and brown spots were peeking out from under the sluggishly melting snow and he was about to go have a family Thanksgiving for the first time since he was eleven.

* * *

"Just park here," Topanga said, pointing to the lot of a broken down and no longer in business gas station, "We'll never get into the grocery store's parking lot."

"Come on, Topanga, how bad can it be? Most people are probably home, getting ready," Cory tells her, pulling around the corner and revealing the swarming frenzy of the grocery store parking lot."

"Nope," Topanga sighs, "Most people are on their way to visit relatives and have just realized that they forgot to pick up the pie, or have been called on their way home from another errand and now are desperately trying to fight their way to the cilantro. Or they've burned something and are struggling for a do-over."

"Have you spent a lot of time at grocery stores on Thanksgiving?" Cory asked.

"Not a lot. A couple," Topanga sighs, "Chloe was always a little lax about getting Thanksgiving together."

Cory pulls into the lot and nearly gets T-boned by someone hurriedly pulling out. He swerves wildly to the side.

"Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you doing this for me?" Topanga asked.

"Well… I love you and all of a sudden you don't eat meat. I can't let you starve on Thanksgiving," Cory sighs as he darts into what is quite possibly the only parking space left in the lot, "Okay, let's run."


	15. In Which Topanga Makes a Suggestion

"Is it bad?" Cory asks as he and Topanga walk back into the house. Topanga lifts the bag of frozen peas she's been holding against Cory's forehead.

"It's starting to bruise, but it's not that bad," Topanga says, "You were really brave, diving in for the chunky cranberries with that woman bearing down on you like that."

A dopey smile spreads over his face, "I was wasn't I?"

"You sure were, that was one huge ass soccer mom," Topanga coos to him, pressing the peas back against his head.

She scoots him in the door and sets him down at the table. "Here, you sit down, and I'll toss a few things in the oven. Vegetarian Thanksgiving is on its way."

"Do you need any help?" Cory asks.

"It's okay, Cory," Topanga tells him, "I've got this." She leans in and kisses him, briefly at first, then settling into it.

"Woah, hey," Eric interrupts, "People are going be eating in here. Turn off the faucets of passion before we have to mop this shit up."

"Eric- shut up and help Topanga cook Vegetarian Thanksgiving."

"Kay," Eric shrugs, diving into the bags.

* * *

It's weird how much sitting in his own living room, with his family, who all know, is still kind of like sitting in Jack and Eric's living room and pretending it's not happening at all.

Peter's not totally sure what to do with his hands. He knows exactly what he  _wants_ to do with them. Run them through Shawn's hair, toy with Shawn's buttons with his arms wrapped around Shawn's chest, hold Shawn's hand.

But he probably shouldn't. Yes- his whole family knows. Yes- his whole family except for Aunt Mary and Uncle Tony are supportive… but he's never brought a boyfriend home and he's not sure he's really thought it through. He hasn't been thinking a lot of things through this week. Because he has never been in love before either. He's been deep in like. He's been entirely too deep in lust… but he's never been in love until Shawn. He's not sure if Shawn knows that, but he is sure that during the football game with his brothers is not the best place to show that off.

He stretches his arm behind Shawn, and Shawn wriggles uncomfortably next to him. Peter glances at the other couples in the room. Rhiannon and Mark are sitting next to each other, both with one eye on the game and the other on Gwydion, who is pushing around a truck and making raspberry noises. Vicky and Luke are sitting together, Vicky leaning into Luke's body, Luke's hand resting on her knee.

Peter shoots a look at the small space between his legs and Shawn's legs, then at Mary and Tony, trying to remember why they are even still invited to this holiday after a couple years ago at Easter, and sighs. Shawn looks up at him and gives him a tight smile. Peter suppresses an urge to kiss him, regretting again that he brought Shawn to the one place where even though he doesn't have to lie, he still has to hold back, when he just wants to be able to breathe Shawn in. Not have to sit half a cushion away from him.

"Boys! Table!" His mom calls from the kitchen. He and all his brothers are all on their feet before the voice even registers. They look at each other sheepishly.

"Well trained aren't they?" Tony snarks. Peter shoots him a stern look, gives into the temptation to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Shawn's ear and heads into the kitchen.

"Peter and Josh- you start moving everything into serving dishes," His mom directs.

"On it."

"Luke- you set out plates and glasses," Aunt Gloria talks over her.

"On it."

"And Mark, honey, can you go fill everyone's wine glass?"

"On it."

Peter stops in mid-potato scoop.

"Hey- umm- not Shawn's."

"Why not?" Mark asks, everyone in the kitchen look over at them.

"We've got beer too," his mom chimes in, "And some umm cranberry cordial. Or cherry, I don't remember."

Peter clears his throat and drops the spoon into the pot, "Look, Mom, you gotta stop offering Shawn drinks."

"Okay. I was just trying to be-what's the matter?"

"Okay, look, he's… he's an alcoholic. He's eight months sober."

Everyone in the kitchens eyes go round.

"Oh…umm…" Mark starts putting the cork back into the bottle.

"Then maybe we shouldn't…"

"No, no… that'll just…" Peter sighs, "Look, just… get him a can of pop and don't say anything okay. Everyone else can have a drink, he doesn't care… just… be cool okay."

There is a group nod and everyone goes back to their scooping, setting and pouring.

* * *

"Just try it," Topanga laughs, holding up a spoonful of her reheated Tofurkey with vegetable gravy.

"What is tofu anyway?" Cory asks suspiciously.

"Soy cheese basically," Topanga shrugs, "Come on. One bite. I promise it won't kill you."

"Fine," Cory sighs, "If you promise."

Topanga smiles at him and he opens his mouth for the offered spoon. He chews reflectively.

"Well?"

"You're right. This probably wouldn't kill me."

"See?" Topanga takes a spoonful for herself as Cory digs back into his bowl of bacon and sweet potatoes with stuffing and giblets on top, "Thanks again, Cory, for taking me to the grocery store. I know it was kind of a disruption of tradition."

"Well," Cory sighs, "I have been accused of being set in my ways. Maybe I should… deal with a little more disruption."

"Did you ever get a hold of Shawn?"

"He's not answering," Cory tells her, "Not even a quick "Happy Thanksgiving. He's really pissed at me. He stayed at Peter's all week rather than deal with me."

"It is Thanksgiving. Maybe he and Peter were just busy with the family stuff. Angela said Peter has a bunch of brothers."

Cory shrugs.

"When he comes back and you apologize to him- and to Peter- you can go out with them," Topanga suggests, "Hang out. It sounds like they both think you have a problem with the gay thing. Just going and hanging out with them, doing whatever it is they do, should help on that front."

"Maybe," Cory agrees blandly.

"What  _do_  they do?"

"Umm…" Cory starts, "I have no idea. That's another weird thing about Peter. I can't figure out what he and Shawn actually have in common. Other than being bad and math and not really liking me that much."

"Shut up. Shawn loves you. Shawn might love you more than I do."

Cory snorts, "Thanks Topanga, that makes the guy that nearly died for your cruelty free salad feel awesome."

"You know what I mean. This thing with Shawn is a hiccup. It'll go away. Stop being so melodramatic. So- what do they do?"

"I really don't know. I just don't get Peter. I know that his roommate is their math tutor. They invited me to play basketball when I just had too much homework to go with. Outside of that- nothing."

"Well," Topanga says, digging into her bowl again, "If they're spending that much time together it's gotta be more than math and basketball. What do you and Shawn talk about?"

"Honestly, a lot of the time? Girls. Peter's made it very clear that can be crossed off the list. School, they do have a class together," Cory shrugs helplessly, "I don't know."

"Well, we can ask Angela tomorrow night at dinner," Topanga tells him, setting a hand on his shoulders.

"Yeah…" Cory yawns hugely. Topanga's laughs turns into an echoing yawn.

"Oh, you've got me too," She chuckles, "Maybe we should turn in."

"Topanga it's eight o'clock at night."

"Okay," She leans back in her chair, "What if we just… went somewhere a little more comfortable."

"Parents are still watching the hallmark movie," Cory tells her.

"Cory," Topanga sighs, "What if you and I stay in your dorm tonight, and we leave now?"

Cory freezes for a moment and then turns to her, "Umm… okay… give me a second here, I took a butternut squash to the head today, you want to stay in my dorm room with me, totally alone?"

"Cool your jets. Nothing's going to happen. I just thought… it might be nice for us to have some quiet, quality time. Without Eric. Or your Dad around, being obnoxious. Some privacy."

"Privacy to do nothing?"

"Well… maybe not nothing," Topanga shrugged, "I mean… not… everything. Something." Her face split into a grin.

"Um…. That's good enough for now."

"Let's go."

"Let's go."

* * *

Shawn took a breath and fingered the edge of his notebook hesitantly.

"Come on, please?" Peter wheedled, taking Shawn's calf in his hand gently and shaking it.

"I'm trying," Shawn sighed, flipping the pages agitatedly, "I told you I would."

"Actually, what you said is that you would let me read one," Peter says, picking his head up and dropping it back down on Shawn's leg, "You do have the option of opening to a page and disappearing. You could also just-"

"Wuss out?"

"Shawn-"

Shawn sighs deeply. "You don't know it, but sometimes," Shawn starts, and stops. "You don't know it, but some-" he cuts himself off, dropping his notebook onto his lap.

Peter sets his head against Shawn's knees and looks up at him.

"You don't have to be nervous. It's just me." Peter smiles. "If it helps, you could picture me naked."

Shawn kicks his leg, rocking Peter away momentarily.

"The last poem I read out loud was in 7th grade and it was just a joke about welfare," Shawn tells him, "No one even knows about this but you."

"There's no rush," Peter says, grabbing Shawn's free hand, "If you're not comfortable that's okay."

"I'm kind of uncomfortable with you curled around me like this with your entire family around."

"The shades are drawn. They're all going to bed." Peter shrugs. "They all know, Shawn. It's okay."

Shawn sighs again, whiteknuckling his notebook.

"Do you want me to move?" Peter asks.

Shawn takes a breath, looks at him, and picks up the notebook.

"You don't know it-"

* * *

"So," Cory clears his throat as Topanga walks into his and Shawn's dorm room, "This is it. Dorm sweet home."

Topanga looks around appraisingly, "It's nice," she says, "I think it's bigger than mine and Albany's room."

"Albany?"

"My roommate."

"Right," Cory laughs uncomfortably, shifting the bag of leftovers from one hand to the other, "Albany. I remembered that. She's from California?"

"Colorado."

"Right…." Cory clears his throat again and suddenly feels the weight of the small bag of left over's in his hand. He walks jerkily to the mini fridge and, misjudging the distance, drops the bag on top of the fridge with a crash.

Topanga shoots him a sympathetic sort of smile, "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. Totally…totally okay."

"No you're not," Topanga laughs at him, pulling off her coat and throwing it on Shawn's bed, "You're freaking out."

"Sorry… you're just…in my dorm. Alone. With me. And not on my parent's couch."

Topanga yawns, shrugs and sits down on Shawn's bed, "It might be nice to have some quiet time, just the two of us," she pulls her coat off and tosses it toward Shawn's pillows, "Plus I don't want to sleep on your couch when you've got an extra bed right here in the quiet," She kicks her heel against the leg of Shawn's bed.

" _but sometimes I go to a hill that overlooks the landscapes mask of city lights for a sip of momentary grace."_

"You could sleep in my bed," Cory says, "I mean, you know, nothing has to happen, but you could, just sleep in my bed with me. Sleeping," he stammers, Topanga gives him a pitying look and he backpeddles, "And I don't know when the last time Shawn washed his sheets was."

Topanga shrugs, "If he's not dragging girls up here, what does it matter?"

"My sheets are clean," Cory tries again, finishing packing the fridge full of the tupperwares of leftovers that his mom had sent them off with.

"I'm just kidding Cory," Topanga smiles, grabbing Shawn's pillow and tossing it onto Cory's bed, "I'm going to sleep in your bed. The last time you came up to visit… waking up with you was nice," she walks over as Cory finishes with the fridge and straightens up. She kisses him."Besides, Shawn's bed reeks of cologne."

"Shawn doesn't wear cologne," Cory says.

Topanga shrugs. "Maybe he started. His pillows have cologne all over them. And it's not cheap stuff either. So what do you want to do?"

"Wait, I don't wear cologne either, how can you pick out-"

"Albany's boyfriend wears the same stuff and she's… sort of weirdly into how much it costs. She can price out his whole wardrobe. It's bizarre."

"Why would Shawn buy impressive cologne?" Cory wonders out loud.

"I don't know, maybe losing his mojo with girls threw him a little. He started a new tactic," She kisses Cory again, "Ask him when he gets back."

" _On this brink of everything I know I can gain an eyeful of the lost Atlantis and the human soul,"_

"Mojo. Paradigm shift," Cory smiles at her, "You really love Yale don't you?"

"Yeah," Topanga says, "I really do. It's amazing to finally… it's amazing to sit in class and have to work for it. I mean, sure, there was the valedictorian battle with Stuart… but that barely counts. You can't really battle with someone who's never around. I probably should have started just taking college classes in high school like he did…but- my life was there. His wasn't. I wanted to be with you."

Cory kisses her and they pull apart, standing awkwardly for a moment before Topanga takes his hand in hers and pulls him toward his bed. They lie down, facing each other, Cory running his thumb over Topanga's palm.

"So… tell me about Pennebrooke, I feel like we never get to talk about what you like about college."

Cory closes his eyes for a second, not sure if he's ready to admit this to her, and takes a breath.

" _and a breath that fills my lungs with the air between two stars."_

"I don't. I don't like college. I'm miserable here."

Topanga freezes for a moment, opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again, "Cory you've been excited about this for like the last year and half."

"Yeah. When I thought it would be you and me and Shawn and Angela, going off into this whole thing together. But you're gone, Shawn's gone… Angela's some sort of weirdly off with Shawn. This…college turned into everything I was worried about and nothing I was excited for. I miss my life, Topanga." Cory sighs heavily, not quite tearfully, but definitely building toward it. "Even tomorrow… I was kind of excited about… I was really excited about you and me and Shawn and Angela, just getting a stupid burger. And now it's… it's not what I was hoping for."

Topanga leans her body into his, not sure what to say. Across the room, her phone rings in her coat pocket.

"Ugh," Cory sniffles, "You know that's probably Angela… I'm gonna get some water, you should just… just answer that."

He pulls away quickly and is already out the door before Topanga thinks of any protest to offer.

She pulls her coat off Shawn's bed, harder than she probably needed too, pulling half his blankets with them and wafting a wave of seventy five dollar cologne over herself. She digs her phone out of her pocket, but misses the call. She flips the phone open. It was just Albany.

A little black triangle peeking out from under Shawn's bed catches her eye and she turns to look at it. It's the corner of a book. She tugs it out curiously.

"Pablo Neruda?"

" _If you were now to capture the image of this elation in the framework of your mind or find transcendence through these words,"_

The top of a receipt is poking out of the top of the book, about halfway through, and Topanga flips to it with a bemused smile. She can just see Shawn loading up on romantic quotes to use on busty skims the poem that Shawn had marked, which doesn't seem particularly romantic, slips the receipt back into the page and closes it. That's when she notices it.

The binding is thick with receipts, carefully tucked into most of the pages of the small volume. Topanga opens the book back to the first receipt and pulls it open. She doesn't recognize the name of the place, it sounds like a coffee place. Two drinks on the receipt. Shawn's name at the bottom. She flips another couple pages. A restaurant she recognizes, two appetizers, paid for by Peter Macdonald. Another restaurant receipt, an order of pancakes and two coffees on it. Shawn's name. The next couple of pages have ticket stubs for movies in them.

" _then at most you would know nothing"_

Topanga closes the book again and opens the front cover. At the top of the beginning to brown cover page, written in slightly childish cursive is the name Peter Macdonald. Underneath it, in the same handwriting, but a newer ink, is written, "To Shawn Hunter".

A thought begins to occur to Topanga, and she flips back through the book of love poems and checks the times on the receipts. A lot of late nights. A lot of breakfasts. For two. For Shawn and his new friend that he started spending so much time with after he stopped dating and talking to Cory.

She jumps as the door opens.

"Sorry," Cory looks at Topanga sheepishly, his eyes rimmed just a little red, "Didn't mean to scare you," he clears his throat, "What are you doing in Shawn's bed?"

Topanga looks at him for a second, then to the book in her hand, "Umm…"

"What's that?" Cory asks, pointing to the book and trying to cover up the little strain in his voice.

"It's… something I accidently found," Topanga answers. She looks at Cory, and realizes just how stupid he and Shawn are. She figures out why Shawn's been so distant, and why Cory's been so hurt. Idiots.

"Cory… do you think maybe Shawn is… dating Peter?"

* * *

" of the beauty your existence throws to me. For mine is a love no experience, no measure, no words could ever degrade into reality by virtue of degree." Shawn finishes with a rush of breath, clears his throat, and reluctantly looks down at Peter, who is staring at him with big brown eyes.

"Shawn," Peter starts quietly, "That was incredible."

Shawn drops his eyes down, staring in the general vicinity of Peter's hand and clears his throat again, "You're just saying that cause you're my boyfriend," he shakes his head a little.

Peter sits up, "No, I really mean it. I kind of thought, sweetheart, honestly, when you said you wrote poetry I kind of thought… sorry, but I sort of figured you did it like I used to do it. Emo kid who needed an outlet. That was actually incredible," he leans in for a kiss, "You have a gift, Shawn."

Shawn turns his head away from Peter, setting a hand to his chest and pushing him back a little ways, "It's… it's just something I do. This is a new one."

"It's wonderful," Peter tells him again, "Shawn look at me,"

Shawn turns his head back, meeting Peter's eyes briefly and blushing pure red. Peter ducks down so that their eyes are actually meeting.

"Shawn- That was wonderful. You're amazing. That was amazing."

Shawn turns even redder.

"It's… it's about you."

Peter freezes in hesitation for a moment, wraps his hand around Shawn's cheek, and kisses him blazingly.


	16. In Which Angela Tries to Help

Peter's alarm sounds at 8:45. He'd set it for 8:00 when he and Shawn had first curled up under the covers, but there had been talking and kissing to be done, and by the time he'd finally pulled Shawn into his arms and settled down to sleep it had been a lot later than he'd planned, and getting up at 8:00, even just to crawl downstairs, had seemed painfully early.

Shawn doesn't stir at the noise, he never does, and all he manages when Peter reaches across him to grab his phone and kill the alarm is a soft little sound, like a "nuhgmm" of disappointment. Peter kisses him behind the ear, which receives a "nmmff" of approval, and tries to ease his way out from under the covers without letting too much cold air into the heat of their combined bodies. He's pretty sure Shawn doesn't even wake up.

Peter grabs his shoes off the floor and pulls the porch door open just a smidge, peering through it carefully. No one. He pulls the door open, steps into the kitchen and closes it behind him, careful to push it so slowly that the "snick" of the door latching is barely audible. He creeps downstairs to his and Josh's room, careful to avoid the creaky spot in the middle of the kitchen and the whining top step on the stairs.

He's less careful with his own bedroom door, waking Josh, who opens one eye and mutters, "Where were you last night?"

"On the porch with Shawn," Peter yawns.

"I can't believe I'm the only one in the damn house who sleeps alone."

"Sorry bro," Peter laughs, "I tried to stay down here for solidarity, but I hate sleeping alone."

"Slut," Josh yawns.

"Fuck you, Josh," Peter responds sleepily, "Maybe you'll bring a hottie home for Christmas."

Josh groans, and rolls over.

* * *

Shawn wakes up to sounds in the kitchen, the smell of food and feels his heart clench.

"Peter?" He whispers, turning over to what is now an empty space in the bed, "Peter?" he says, louder this time, but not expecting a response. He climbs out from under the covers, grabs the robe that Luke had tossed out on the porch for him yesterday and goes into the kitchen.

"Morning, Shawn," Peter's dad calls, "You hungry?"

"Yeah," Shawn nods.

"Grab a plate," Peter dad instructs, pointing to the cupboard, "We're having leftovers, but it counts as breakfast because we're using the mashed potatoes for potato pancakes, and we are putting the gravy on biscuits."

"Oh. Um. Okay. Sounds great," Shawn yawns, grabbing a plate out of the cupboard. Peter's father takes it from him, heaps it with pancakes and a couple biscuits and hands it back.

"Saved you a spot," Peter tells him, patting the chair next to him. He's got a huge cowlick on the side of his head, and Shawn nearly reaches out to smooth it down, but for some reason is still stopped by the fact that he's surrounded by Peter's brothers.

"Peter, you've got-"

Peter looks up from devouring his pancakes and watches blankly as Shawn sort of gestures toward the side of his own head.

"Syrup?" Peter tries.

"No... it's,"

Peter touches his fingers to his head, and Shawn, holding his breath, reaches out and tries to smooth his hair down. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it's really the most physical contact he and Peter have ever had in front of people who aren't strangers. Fixing someone's hair is a strangely intimate thing, and Shawn's suddenly doing it at the breakfast table. He tries to remember if he ever fixed Angela's hair in front of somebody. Probably not. Angela's hair had tended toward intricate styles.

Peter sits and lets Shawn fight against the spat of unruly hair, smiling at him softly.

Josh snorts, "Damn, we were just going to let him walk around like that."

"We used to let both of you go to school like that all the time," Mark says, waving his fork between Josh and Peter, "Just take a look at all of your grade school pictures," He makes a cowlick with his hand and laughs again.

"Hey man, at least we've still got all our hair," Peter shoots back, "Oh!"

"Oh!" Josh echoes and he and Peter high five.

"Mock away kids, but we've all got the same genes here, and it's not going to be funny in 10 more years."

"Rogaine, man, it's all about Rogaine," Peter shrugs.

Peter's mom walks in, in a bright red, cozy looking robe, rubbing at her eye.

"Oh, for goodness sake," she sighs, licks her hand and slides it hard over the hair Shawn had just tried to fix before continuing on into the kitchen. Peter rolls his eyes and Shawn laughs.

Peter's dad kisses Peter's mom on the cheek and hands her a plate of pancakes. She sets herself down at the head of the table and gestures at Luke to pass her the orange juice. "Where are the girls?"

"Black Friday," Luke and Mark answer wearily, "They left at 3:00."

"Ugh, too much," Peter's mom sighs, dumping syrup over her pancakes, "You couldn't pay me to be at the mall that early in all that mess. So what are you boys going to do today?"

"Watch some movies, relax," Luke says.

"Little bit of work yet to do," Mark says.

"Homework," Josh sighs.

"Us too," Peter responds.

"Haha," Luke laughs, "Sucks to be you guys."

"So, Shawn, what are you studying?" Peter's father asks.

"Ummm… well I'm only a freshman, so a little bit of everything."

"Are you looking at a major yet, or still working on that?" Peter's mom asks.

"I haven't really thought about a major yet. Right now I'm just trying to get generals out of the way."

"He's brilliant in English," Peter says, "Just brilliant."

Shawn blushes, "I'm focusing on generals right now," he repeats, "But I'm, um, I'm signing up for a Literature Theory class next semester. Heard good things about it," He stuffs a bite of pancakes into his mouth, hoping he won't be expected to contribute further. Family breakfasts at the Matthews usually involved Eric burning himself on something and Morgan being cynical and patronized. The band of brothers thing is a little overwhelming to get dropped into. Weirdly more overwhelming than watching football with the entire family had been. They had either ignored him, or just made polite small talk as though he were a random hallmate.

This was different. Now he was like the boyfriend being brought home to meet the family. It was just like he had always imagined- except… they liked him. Well, that and he had always imagined it being a girl's family, but he'd… kind of gotten over that.

The conversation shifts from his classes to Mark's work, Shawn manages to evade Peter's mother's attempt to force second helpings upon him, and they all migrate out to the living room. Luke flips channels until he finds some old black and white movie that Shawn's never seen, but the Macdonalds all used to watch together. Mark goes to get his computer so he can work. Shawn goes out to the porch to grab his world history book, and Peter and Josh reluctantly troop downstairs for their own textbooks.

When Peter gets back upstairs he drops down next to Shawn on the couch. Shawn sees him flick his eyes over his family for a moment, and then he throws his legs over Shawn's, like they would if they were just hanging out in his room.

"Hey, Josh?" Peter says, and Shawn notices just the hint of discomfort in his voice, "Toss me that blanket will you?"

"Yeah."

Josh chucks the blanket at his head without comment and Peter pulls it over their legs. Shawn sets his textbook on Peter's shins, and smiles.

* * *

"Wait, you haven't even opened it?" Topanga asks him. He can hear that she's trying not to let her shock sound too damning as he pulls the class bulletin out of his back pack and sets it on the café table.

"Nope. Not once," He admits.

Topanga picks the bulletin sitting between them up off the table and pulls it open, cracking the binding before setting it back down on the table between their lattes.

They were sitting in the café from one of Shawn's receipts. Cory had passed it off as going out of his way to go somewhere new. He didn't even know where it was, they'd had to google it. Topanga had mentioned that it was a little depressing to realize that they had all been so devoted to Chubbies back in high school that there were all kinds of cozy corners in town that they didn't know about, despite having grown up around them, and Cory had become even more determined to go get breakfast there.

It wasn't what he expected. From the name, "Aunt Violet's Shoppe" he'd expected something homey. Infused with the smell of cookies and coffee, with mismatched arm chairs and old furniture spread around it.

That's not what it was. It was in an old building with brick walls and tin roof molded into one of those old fashioned, almost fluer de lis like patterns. One wall was covered in photographs, clearly two different artists, one who seemed to focus on dreamy sepia prints with odd details like video game characters or actor's faces painted or stamped onto them. The other's focus seemed to be harshly contrasted black and white photographs, mostly of naked people. The opposite wall all seemed to be patron contributed graffiti. Names in hearts were carved into some of the bricks. There were faces and figures and flowers all melting into each other. The walls were lined with mismatched little tables, all dark wood, heavily built. Little groupings of furniture were laid out across the long room, all of the furniture bright colored and vinyl upholstered, high backed and retro. The look of overly cultured discomfort was weirdly off set with piles of worn and soft cushions and pillows.

The baked goods were available in regular, vegan and organic. Most of the espresso drinks were things you would find anywhere, but a couple were just odd. "Running Mascara Mocha", which Topanga had ordered and found out to be dark chocolate. There was also a "He Didn't Deserve You Pie" and "Walk of Shame Double Shot" which the fantastically over made-up barista had informed them had enough caffeine to allow someone to teleport home.

It was not the kind of place Cory could imagine Shawn in. Or even imagine Peter in, based on the very little he knew about Peter. Or the nearly nothing that he knew about Peter. At some point during his and Shawn's fight, Cory had realized that he didn't even know where Peter's dorm was, that even if he had felt like it he wouldn't be able to find Shawn to apologize to him.

Topanga starts flipping through pages.

"When do you register for classes?" Topanga asks, her worry obvious and becoming condemning despite her best efforts.

"Monday," Cory sighed, "You register online, but apparently it's almost impossible to get in to a few classes, especially some of the prerequisites and general eds if you don't register right away at 7:00 am."

"Okay," Topanga said, "Okay. Fine. We'll just… we'll start crossing out swatches and narrow down from there. Right?"

"Right."

"So what do you have done already?"

Cory took a bracing sip of his coffee- cream and sugar, nothing fancy, "That depends on what I pass this semester, Topanga."

Topanga looks up at him, "Okay… so we'll pick out a couple easier generals for you… ummm…" She flips through the book again, "Let me… let me go ask for a pen."

Topanga gets up and goes back to the counter. She chats with the barista, obviously with fake cheer, as she waits for her to fish an extra pen out from somewhere. Topanga's back is turned away from the door. She doesn't notice when two guys, probably college aged, just out of college at the oldest, walk in. One is red haired, bearded and a little rounder. The other is slender, and blonde. Their dark coats are dusted with snow and they are laughing together. The blonde turns to the red head, brushes snow off of the shoulders of his jacket, and touches his fingers to the redhead's cheek. The redhead hisses and pulls them away, and the blonde drops his arm, grabs the red heads hand, and they walk together, into the coffee shop and past Cory, where they drop their jackets at a table and return, still holding hands, to the front of the coffee shop, where they cross paths with Topanga.

Topanga notices the two men, Cory sees her eyes dart down to their linked hands. She smiles politely as she passes them, then sits down across from Cory.

"Okay… I think… maybe you just overdid it a little this semester. You need something relaxing. You liked pottery and you need a fine arts class right? Let's see what's offered."

Topanga flips to the fine arts section of the class bulletin and starts circling things.

With Topanga bent over the book on the table, Cory can see behind her. Where what he is pretty sure is a Gay Pride Flag is wrapped around a lamp.

He takes another sip of his coffee.

* * *

Angela debates. She doesn't want to ruin his weekend, and there are a couple of other things that Cory's bizarre phone call could have meant… but she doubts it. Shawn and Peter aren't that subtle, Shawn's only good at secrets without any evidence and Peter doesn't feel like he has anything to hide. She knows that Shawn and Peter had been planning to come back to Philadelphia on Saturday afternoon, so that they could have some time and privacy in the dorms. She texts him.

_I'm going to tell Cory and Topanga that I think we should move that dinner thing to Sat. night. I think you should come with us._

"Ugh.." She sighs, "Sorry, Shawn."

_And I think you should bring Peter. I think Topanga and Cory figured out that you guys are dating. It would help you to explain it to Cory if we were both there._

She sits for a moment, watching her phone to see if he replies, and after a minute, slips it into her pocket so she'll be able to answer if he does.

* * *

It takes Topanga three hours to pick out Cory's classes for the coming semester. Cory eats three muffins while they go through the book. Finally, with each classes title, number, and curriculum fulfillment written in the back of the bulletin in Topanga neat script, the two of them head back to his dorm.

Cory doesn't mention his suspicion that the coffee shop from Shawn's receipt … had a certain crowd in mind. Topanga clearly noticed it. And besides. It's just circumstantial evidence. Maybe it's one of Peter's favorite places and it was just open when they were looking for a quiet place to study. Maybe the pie there is amazing. There are a lot of reasons that they could have gone there.

Together.

On a Friday night.

"And I think that Introductory Composition class will really help you in structuring papers and presentations for the rest of your classes," Topanga was saying as he unlocked his dorm room for the two of them.

Topanga walked in, pulled her coat off and threw it onto Shawn's bed, "You're building is so much hotter than mine."

"It's not as old," Cory replied.

Topanga chuckled, stepped up to him and kissed him quickly, "Okay, I really have to pee. I'll be right back."

Cory waited for the door to close, gave it another second just in case and then went over to Shawn's bed, where the book of love poems that Topanga had found in his bed and was now sitting out on his dresser.

"Just a coincidence," Cory told himself again. There was no way. There just wasn't.

A chime sounded from underneath Topanga's coat and Cory jumped as though it were an alarm, but it was just her phone. It was laying underneath the arm of her jacket with "Msg received Angela" glowing blue. He picked it up and opened it, figuring Angela was probably just firming up plans and Topanga wouldn't mind.

_I'm going to tell Cory and Topanga that I think we should move that dinner thing to Sat. night. I think you should come with us._

Cory registered the part about moving dinner to Saturday before he realized that Angela clearly hadn't been addressing the text to Topanga, but before he could complete the thought the phone chimed again with another message. He opened that one too.

_And I think you should bring Peter. I think Topanga and Cory figured out that you guys are dating. It would help you to explain it to Cory if we were both there._

Cory reads it again, and again, and then sits down on Shawn's bed. He sits on something cold and plastic and stands back up.

It's Topanga's phone. She and Shawn have the same phone. And he answered Angela's text to Shawn.

He flicks his eyes at the door and opens up the conversation history between Shawn and Angela.

_I'm not going to make the dinner thing on Friday._

_Why?_

_I'm going home with Peter. Cory and I got into this huge fight and I decided I just can't deal with him all weekend._

_What happened?_

_He told me that he thinks Peter only hangs out with me because he's hoping to seduce me and made it sound like that was the worst thing that could ever happen_

_I'm sure it wasn't that bad_

_It sounded that bad. I don't need this much grief from Cory right now._

Cory felt a little burn of guilt in his stomach, but scrolled down further, skipping through a few sections, looking for a beginning to all of this, until a couple names popped up.

_I told Jack and Eric._

_And I bet it went just fine right?_

_Yeah._

_So are you going to tell Cory now?_

_Not yet. It's too much. Jack knows now he's being kind of weird about it. Eric… is always weird. Rachel knows. I just can't tell anyone else tonight._

His door opened and he dropped his hands to his lap, but didn't drop the phone.

"Cory, what are you doing with my phone?"

Cory couldn't process far enough to answer, Topanga came over and held her hand out for it, "Here," she said calmly, until she noticed the screen, "Wait… is that my text history?"

"No…" Cory managed, "It's…umm…it's not your phone. It's Shawn's."

"Cory," Topanga reddened, "Cory Matthews did you go through his private conversations?" she demanded.

"It was an accident!"

"You just accidently read all of this?"

He flips the phone around and holds it up to her face. The last part of the conversation still on the screen.

"You were right. Shawn and Peter are dating. I was wrong," he gulped, "And I was also wrong about… he told everyone but me, Topanga."


	17. In Which the Weekend Ends

Peter's alarm on Saturday is just as disappointing as it was on Friday and it still doesn't wake Shawn, who just mutters something in his sleep. Peter kisses him on the ear, then eases carefully out of bed and slips silently into the kitchen. He closes the door behind him just as carefully as he had yesterday before spinning silently on his sock, and coming face to face to Rhiannon who is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping at a glass of seltzer with an amused expression.

"Morn-ing," she sing songs.

"Morning Rhi," Peter blushes, "I was just-"

"Forget it," Rhiannon shrugs, "The first time Mark brought me home for a family event we had sex while the little cousins were out doing the Easter egg hunt. In your bed. I'm not going to rat on you."

"My bed?"

"It was downstairs. Away from the windows."

"Ugh… that piece of shit," Peter huffs.

Rhiannon laughs at him, "Sorry. So…Shawn. He seems…"

"Seems what?" Peter yawns, pulling out another chair and sitting across from his sister in law.

"I guess I just pictured your type as less…. You know, reedy. Mark said he thought you went more for athletic types."

Peter shrugs. "'My type' doesn't really come up in conversation that often."

"So what's your type?"

"I don't know. Interesting," he grins at her. "I like lanky guys. With a little bit of… soul? Soul, I think I'd call it."

Rhiannon nods, "A little soul. I see. So your Shawn has soul huh?"

"In abundance," Peter confirms. "He's just not out at school, and I think that being here with all of you guys is a little too much for him."

"He's not out? And you're dating him? That's the one thing I  _know_  isn't your type."

Peter yawns again. "Look, don't tell anybody else this, but he says he's… actually straight."

"He's your boyfriend, but he's straight?" Rhiannon gives him a quizzical look.

"I think he's just scared. He lives with his best friend from high school and the kid's this conservative tool who's afraid to leave his room in case he accidently comes across something new or exciting. And Shawn's never been with a guy or gone after a guy. He's still figuring things out."

"He just couldn't resist you?" Rhiannon jokes.

"He loves me," Peter answers her quietly.

Her smile turns sincere, "Do you love him?"

"Yeah. I really do."

She leans toward him, "It's scary isn't it?" she asks conspiratorially.

"Consistently," Peter laughs.

"How's the sex?"

Peter clears his throat, Rhiannon's cool and all, but she's still basically his older sister, "Uh… not happening."

"Really, nearly three months in?"

"We're getting there. In a slow, respectful, responsible manner."

She grins at him, and opens her mouth.

"Please don't tell me about any more sexcapades that involve Mark," Peter dropped his head into his hands, "I might have to claw my eyes out and then die."

"I wasn't going to do any such thing. I was just going to taunt you about being all mature and reasonable. Come on. You're twenty one. You're not going to knock anybody up-"

"I'm dating a guy who still thinks he's straight."

"Are we counting oral as sex?"

"So what are you doing up so early?" Peter changes the subject.

"Don't tell anybody?" Rhiannon sighs, "Morning sickness."

Peter's jaw drops, "What? That's awesome! Well, sorry, not that you're sick- but hey! Uncle Peter, round two. Awesome. Why aren't you telling anyone?"

"We'll tell Luke and Vicky and Josh and your dad before we leave, but the whole family at once is just way too much. But I'll bet you a hundred damn dollars that Sharon already knows."

"See, you're the one I need to go explain 'not a cookie hug' to Shawn."

"What now?"

"My roommate Jeremy-"

"The one who looks like he's gone AWOL from a Tim Burton movie?"

"Yes," Peter answers, "he told Shawn that Mom was a-quote- cookie hug."

"Well. A cookie hug mom is probably exactly what Shawn needs."

"What makes you say that?"

"You noticed that no one, for all of Thanksgiving- including Sharon- asked Shawn a damn thing about his family right? We were all forbidden."

"Why?"

"Sharon said there was some ugly back story that she didn't want dredged up."

"That's not what I told her," Peter groaned, "My exact words were 'don't interrogate him. His family's just not in the picture'."

"Honey…" Rhiannon starts cautiously, "'soul' doesn't have to mean an alcoholic orphan."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just- I don't know Shawn that well-"

"No. You don't," Peter spits.

"Just- when I was your age- just listen to me-I liked guys with a little bit of soul too, and I wound up with a couple… grungy poet art types who were just way more trouble than they were worth."

"That's not what's going on. He's alcoholic because he  _can't_  drink, not because he  _does_  drink. He's sober now, and his family's just-"

"Honey- I believe you. Okay. I just…" she reached out and grabbed his arm, "I love you, you're my little brother, and I thought I should check."

"I love Shawn," Peter repeats stubbornly.

"I'm glad."

Peter gets up from the table, his chair squeaks under him, "He told me about his family. It's… it is ugly back story. But  _we_  are good."

"Good. I didn't mean to imply that you weren't."

"Good."

They look at each other in uneasy silence for a moment.

"I'm going back out to the porch," Peter says.

"I'm going to go sit in front of the toilet."

Peter slips back out onto the porch and ducks back under the covers, face to face with Shawn. He brushes a lock of hair off his face and kisses him.

"Mmm, don' go," Shawn sighs.

"I not going anywhere," Peter replies, wrapping his arm around Shawn's waist and shaking him a gently until he wakes up.

"Mhmmm, hey," Shawn yawns, "What time is it?"

"It's like eight. Do you wanna head home today?"

"I thought we were going back tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but if we leave today, we could have," he tips Shawn's chin up with his thumb and brushes their lips together, "the night together, the morning together, maybe a shower together. I haven't had you all weekend."

Shawn laughs, "You've  _had me_  in your car for the last couple of nights."

Peter wraps himself a little closer around Shawn.

"I haven't had you in my mouth since Wednesday," he whispers. He can feel Shawn's body react, the slight way his back muscles tense, the little bit of a hitch in his breath.

Shawn smiles, the sleepy smile that makes Peter feel like his entire body is melting, "You're the only person I've ever been with who loves that."

"Loves what?" Peter teased.

"Going down on me," Shawn whispered, "We could go home today. After breakfast?"

"Of course."

"And there is that huge shower on my floor. With the three shower heads. And no one's going to be back in the dorms until tomorrow," Shawn grinned.

"Perfect, I'll see you at breakfast?"

"We could get up and make toast," Shawn sighed, "Maybe hold out for lunch?"

"I love toast."

* * *

Morgan can't take it anymore.

"What are you doing?" she asks Eric, who has been sitting at the table watching his phone for the last ten minutes.

"Cory's going to call soon. I can tell."

"How can you tell?"

"My fifth sense," Eric informs her, "It's tingling."

"Sixth sense, Eric," Morgan replies.

"Good movie," Eric nods. Morgan rolls her eyes and returns to her drawing. She wonders, dismally, if she lucked out and skipped the insanity gene that clearly dominates Cory and Eric, or if it just hasn't set in yet. If maybe it's an illness that sets in later, like diabetes.

"Why is Cory going to call soon?" She asks.

"Umm… he's figuring something out about Shawn. Or… well, Topanga's probably going to figure it out and then tell him."

"About Shawn's boyfriend Peter?" Morgan asks.

"Oh my god- you have the fifth sense too!" Eric crows, a proud smile crosses his face and he sets a hand on her shoulder "Oh, will you look at that! You take after my side of the family."

Morgan shrugs Eric's hand of her shoulder, "No, Eric. Cory's been bitching about it every time he's been here for months." She gives Eric a slightly pitying look that she knows he has completely failed to notice, "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out."

The door opens and Eric jumps. Cory walks in, an extremely put upon looking Topanga trudging behind him.

"Close enough," Eric shrugs before turning to Morgan and winking. "Fifth sense, weasel. Fifth sense.

"Hey, Eric."

"Hey, Cory, what's up?"

Cory doesn't answer, busying himself with pulling off his gloves and scarf. Topanga does the same, tossing hers onto the kitchen counter.

"He wants to as-"

"-I've got to ask you something," Cory interrupts.

"Don't ask him-"

"Topanga- I just want to-"

"You could call and ask to talk to-"

"-Since the end of September," Eric butts in.

"What?" Cory demands.

"Peter right?" Eric asks.

Cory purses his lips. "Right."

"Since the end of September. Actually it started just after school started, but wasn't official until the end of September."

"When did he te-"

"Rachel saw them kissing at a coffee shop like a week after they got together, but she already thought Shawn was gay, so she didn't say anything until she let it slip to Jack last week at our party. Then Jack caught them kissing in the hallway while you were in the bathroom, and Shawn ducked back in to tell us, and I figured it out, like forever ago, because Shawn came over covered in hickeys."

"So Shawn and this  _guy_ …they-"

"Go at it like rabbits? Yeah. Whenever you aren't around."

"Eric!" Cory covers Morgan's ears. Topanga rolls her eyes and Morgan swats Cory's hands away with a brusque, "Oh, come on. What am I, stupid?"

"Seriously, man. Are you surprised? Everyone in this town has seen Shawn at Chubbie's with his tongue down some girl's throat. It's not going to be different just because it's a dude this time."

Cory takes a few steps forward, as though he wants to begin pacing, but realizes that the kitchen is just too full for that.

"He wasn't staying with you and Jack last week was he?"

"He stopped in once, he and Jack had lunch."

"And Angela?"

Eric's voice drops low and conspiratorial, "He told her first. I…was present for the phone call… but I can't disclose the circumstances."

"He told Angela first?"

"He doesn't think you'll understand."

"Why wouldn't I understand?" Cory demands.

"You don't understand!" Topanga snaps, leaning up against the kitchen sink, arms crossed tight. "A couple days ago you were giving Shawn doom and gloom about Peter even liking him."

"Topanga's right," Eric says.

"Thank you."

"He could have given me a chance!" Cory cuts across her flapping his arms out of sheer frustration.

"He's given you plenty of chances," Eric says, "You hate Peter, we all know you hate Peter. He knows you hate Peter, and… Shawn is really happy. I think he's afraid that if he tells you that he found something different than what you think he should have…you'll…" Eric waves an arm out in front of himself.

"I'll what?"

"That you'll shit on it, man."

Cory reaches to cover Morgan's ears again, she ducks out of the way.

"That I'll what?"

"That you'll ruin it," Topanga translates.

"What does he think I think he should have?" Cory asks.

"Angela," Topanga answers, "Angela, but like me. You think he should have what we have."

"He and Angela were so good together!" Cory turns to Topanga, "and he's dated a million girls. I just- I don't get how he could just suddenly drop into some kind of relationship with a….with this guy."

"Cory, you do realize that you're doing exactly what he's afraid you'll do?" Topanga demands, "That you're freaking out."

"And shitting on it," Eric agrees.

"Okay," Cory starts pacing in the very small portion of the kitchen not occupied by people telling him he's wrong."Fine. I don't want to," he shoots a look at Morgan's cynical raised eyebrow, "dump on this, but come on- isn't this suspicious to anyone else? Shawn's all secretive, and acting out of character? And lying to all of us for months? He only told you guys because he got caught right?"

"Cory-" Topanga and Eric both start at the same time, but Cory cuts them off again.

"I'm just thinking- if this was a girl- If Shawn had been keeping some girl a secret for months, wouldn't anyone else be worried?"

"Cory- if dating Peter and dating some random girl you just didn't like were comparable situations, you wouldn't be freaking out, and he wouldn't have been afraid to tell you."

"But-"

"Cory- they're in love!" Eric cut in.

Cory freezes, turned back to face Eric.

"What?"

"Shawn didn't just wind up in "some kind of relationship". He's in love with Peter. And Peter loves him back," Eric says, "Shawn going home with him for Thanksgiving isn't about you. He went to meet Peter's parents."

"Wait, they're in love?" Topanga asks.

"Madly deeply," Eric replies, "And isn't that exactly what you want for him?"

* * *

"I'm not sure why I'm surprised that your mother sent this many leftovers home with you," Shawn laughs as he and Peter make their way up the dorm stairwell.

"Us, sweetheart. One of these bags is solely yours," Peter replies.

"Of course," Shawn sighs, continuing up the stairs.

"Hey, this is your floor, where are you going?" Peter asks, "You may have been too sleepy to remember this, but there were plans regarding the big shower on this floor."

"No, I remember," Shawn told him. "But my keys and all my shower stuff is still in your room."

"Right," Peter says with a grin he even feels stupid grinning, "Because you've been staying with me for a whole week."

"It's been a good week," Shawn grins back, kissing him quickly over their big grocery bags full of leftovers.

"I am such a jackass," Cory says again as he unlocks the front door of the dorm building "And I would feel a lot better if you would pretend to disagree with me just a little bit."

"You didn't know," Topanga mutters half heartedly.

"Yeah, but I should have."

"Remind me why we're back here again?"

"I'm going to get Shawn's phone," Cory tells her, beginning to trudge toward the stairwell, "I'm going to call Peter. I'm going to ask to talk to Shawn, and I'm going to apologize," Cory flings the stairwell door open. "For being such a jackass!"

* * *

"We probably shouldn't leave all this out," Shawn says, looking over the big stack of Tupperware piled on top of Peter's fridge because it didn't fit inside.

"It survived the car ride," Peter shrugged, grabbing his and Shawn's shower baskets.

"It was in the trunk, which this time of year, counts as a refrigerator."

Peter gives him a little bit of a look, "Well, how long are going to let it sit out?"

"Big shower… hardly anyone in the building, and," Shawn picks a bottle of hand lotion out of his shower basket, "I read an article somewhere about safe… lotions for stuff… this was on the list."

"Safe lotions for stuff?" Peter asks, then gets it, "Whoa, right now? Shawn-"

"-No," Shawn drops the lotion back into the basket and sets his hands at Peter's waist. "Not that. But I was thinking, after the other night… I was curious…about you know," Shawn can't believe he's saying this, but he also can't believe he just met someone's whole family like a normal person, "Letting you touch me. Maybe even having that conversation?"

"We could do that," Peter told him, sounding winded. "But I think… I think that might be a long conversation."

"Why?" Shawn asks, just a flash of worry knifing through him.

"Because," Peter took his hand, "When we get that far… I want it to be perfect."

"Okay, forget the leftovers, now I've got to have you right away," Shawn kisses him, grabs their towels and throws the door open. Peter follows him and they scurry down the hallway back down to the third floor.

* * *

"Look, Cory, I know it's been a weird weekend, but I'd kind of like it if you would apologize to me too," Topanga huffs. Cory spins around in the stairwell doorway.

"What did I do to you?"

"I never get to see you, and this whole weekend suddenly became about Shawn," she speeds up to cut him off before he starts. " _and I understand that you've got a lot going_  on and I'm going to let you call him, because I understand how important a best friend is, but I didn't come back to the dorms with you last night to help you mope about Shawn keeping this to himself and to pick out your classes. I'm not going to be back here until Christmas, and I would like a little attention too."

"After I talk to Shawn?"

"Cory… I would like a little...physical attention."

Cory's eyes widen, his mouth drops open a little bit.

"After you talk to Shawn," Topanga sighs agitatedly.

Cory steps forward and kisses her, "You really are the best girlfriend in the entire world."

"I know."

* * *

Shawn pulls Peter down the stairs behind him, hand in hand, stopping at the door to pop a couple of teasing shirt buttons, on the fourth floor for a belt buckle and a little bit of playful groping.

"Okay, it is nice not to be in a houseful of relatives for this," Shawn giggles as Peter pushes him up against the wall in the third floor landing and sets his lips to Shawn's neck.

"Not that it ever stopped them," Peter mutters, running his tongue over Shawn's clavicle.

The third floor door opens up behind them, Shawn tries to push Peter off, but Peter doesn't catch on in time.

"Well. Peter. Shawn."

Peter's entire body freezes rigor mortis stiff at the sound of his voice.

"It is… Shawn right?" Anthony sneers, stepping out into the stairwell.

He's wet, wearing nothing but a towel hanging low around his waist. Shawn feels like every extra spoonful Peter's mother had slapped down on his plate is tucked under his shirt. Anthony looks like he's carved out of stone.

"Go away, Anthony," Peter growls, pulling far enough back from Shawn so that they aren't so obviously en flagrante, but staying close enough so that Shawn is still pressed into the wall, hidden behind him.

"Before I congratulate you?" Anthony sets his hands to his hips, "Bagging a straight one really is impressive. And you were so worried." He shoots Shawn an absolutely venomous look and saunters up the stairs.

Shawn waits until he heard the click of the door.

"Bagging a straight one?" Shawn asks, "You told your ex boyfriend about me? I thought you hated him?"

"I do." Peter steps back. "I have to tell you something."

Shawn recognizes the tone, it's the tone people instantly adopt when they're about to hurt him.

"You know what, never mind."

"No, Shawn I-"

"No. You don't have to tell me. I don't want to know. Kiss me," Shawn closes the distance between them, Peter backs away again.

"Shawn-"

"Don't. Don't do this to me," Shawn can hear his voice raising, but he can't fight it back down, "Please, Peter, too many people have done this to me, not you. Please."

"I can't keep lying to you," Peter gulped, "Every time I wanted to tell you… it was a bad time."

"Still a bad time!"

"Shawn-"

"Peter-"

"I panicked. That first time we kissed? When I disappeared?"

"Don't."

"I panicked. I liked you so much, and I know what happens when you go after the straight guy."

"You slept with him," Shawn whispered.

"I left your room. I freaked out. I went back to the party. I got wasted…. I went to his room. I left in the morning, I didn't even say goodbye. I went to your room, to man up and talk to you-you looked terrified that I'd come back… so I-"

"-So that whole weekend I spent freaking out… you were fucking your ex."

"I should have told you earlier."

"I was looking for you. I didn't know what had done, and I needed to talk to you."

"Anthony is… it's complicated."

Shawn pushes him back, not hard, but decisively, "You know… I don't want hear it. I didn't want to hear any of it… and I'm… I'm done."

Shawn bolts for the door.

"Shawn-"

Shawn spins around, "Don't. Listen to me this time– Don't."

He slams the door behind him.


	18. In Which Jeremy is Brought Up to Speed

Peter watches Shawn storm out onto his own floor, and, as requested, lets him go.

"Fuck!" he hisses. He throws his head back against the hard brick wall and growls. "Fuck!"

What was he supposed to have done?

Told Shawn that day when he'd found him in the hallway, huddled up on the floor and clinging to his book, totally circumventing any potential for that one weird make out session to have become anything more?

Told him in that awkward space between that day and their first date, while Shawn was cautiously trying to sort everything out? That would have just made it seem like a challenge:  _I have an out of the closet alternate perfectly willing to put out._

Told him after he'd finally managed to tell Angela?  _Fine, talk to your ex, I've got exes too._

 _You should have been a fucking grown up, gone home, freaked out alone and talked to him in the morning you pathetic shit-sack!_  Peter berated himself.  _You should have at least manned up enough to tell him before this!_

Peter hits his head against the wall once more and stalks up the stairs with both his and Shawn's shower stuff, stomping heavily back to his dorm. He considers staying there for a moment, in case Shawn comes by to demand an explanation, or slap him, or something, but Peter knows better. Based on Shawn's stories, he'll need some air for a couple hours.

Peter needs some punishment. He grabs his gym bag and stomps off across campus.

* * *

Shawn's chest starts to ache, his legs are burning. He turns a corner and leans, gasping, against the window of the coffee shop he had found himself at after his and Peter's first night together.

He catches his breath for a moment and heads inside. He jitters up to the counter, arms wrapped around himself as he shivered. He'd run out of the dorm without a coat.

"Scuse me. Could I get a cup of coffee please? Small?"

"Yeah, hon, just a second."

Shawn stares at the counter, trying to put together a plan. He doesn't want to go back to his dorm. He's going to need at least a few hours and maybe even another day before he can even handle running into Peter. Jack's still with his family until Monday. Fuck. He'd call Eric and see if Eric would come get him and let him crash in the apartment, but his phone is back in the apartment, he doesn't have Eric's number memorized and if he calls the Matthew's house and gets anyone else they're going to know something's wrong. He's got nowhere to go.

A small hand with a delicate flower pattern, like on expensive china, tatooed around a dainty wrist appears in Shawn's circle of vision, sliding his cup of coffee toward him.

He digs through his pockets and realizes the stupidest part of his shitty panic impulse. He's dressed to go the showers. He's lucky he even has shoes. He's got no phone. No money. And no coat.

"Umm…" He starts, "Sorry, I just… I… just a second," He realizes that he sounds awful. Like he's been punched in the throat.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" The girl behind the counter asks him gently. Shawn shudders at the endearment.

"Ummm… I'm… I'm having a totally shit day."

"You know what? Just take it."

"You don't have to-"

"It's just coffee. The markup's painful. Take it."

Shawn nods, lifts the cup to her in thanks and heads to where he had sat before, in the farthest corner from the door. He takes a sip of coffee and drops his head into his hands.

Peter lied to him. He had been more open with Peter than anyone in his entire life. He loves Peter more than he ever loved Angela. Peter knows things about him that Cory doesn't even know. Peter's family had let him in. Shawn tries to swallow the hard lump growing in his throat.

This is insane. With no money and no coat the only thing that makes sense is for him to go back to his room and flip out there. He can lock the door. If Peter comes by it's not like he has to let him in.

But he can't. It' not just figuring out how to lie to Cory this time. His room smells like Peter. His bed smells like Peter. Fuck, even his clothes and his skin smell like Peter. Shawn breathes in the coffee smell, but it just overlays the fact that when he wipes his eyes he can smell Peter on his hands.

He needs a shower and somewhere to stay where he can just be miserable, without Peter trying to explain why he did this to him, or Cory demanding to know what's going on.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Shawn looks up to see the girl from the counter. He hadn't noticed before, but she is really, truly beautiful. No makeup. Soft cheeks. Short, honey blond curls around her face, framing her big, liquid black eyes. She reminds him of someone.

Shawn looks down from her beautiful face to her beautiful breasts, her pinched waist, her rounded hips. She seems sweet. She probably has a place.

A lump rises in his throat. No. He can't.

He clears his throat, "Umm…, sorry… could you please not call me sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, "So… I'm guessing someone else called you that?"

Shawn nods and the girl slides into the booth across from him and sets her chin on her hand.

"What was her name?"

Shawn sniffles. She bites her lip and Shawn suddenly realizes who she reminds him of, and the clear solution.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

* * *

Jeremy pulls his room key out of his pocket with what he imagines is the same feeling Arthur experienced upon pulling the sword from the stone. It feels warm and tingly in his hand. He slots it into the lock, turns it and throws the door open with a sigh of relief.

Home sweet home and back to his real life.

He sweeps through the door, he can sweep now that he isn't at home anymore, and heads directly to his wardrobe, pulling open the door with the mirror in it.

A flash of reflected movement in Peter's bed distracts him from how absolutely ghastly he looks.

"Hi Jeremy," Peter says. He sounds exhausted. Jeremy sighs. Seriously? They can't fuck in Shawn's room for once?

"Hey guys. I realize you've seen through my clever ruse of pretending I don't love you, but I'm not leaving this fucking room without some eyeliner and lace." He yanks Peter's belt out of his jeans and drops them to the floor. "You can even keep going and I'll just tune you out- but I'm not leaving till I'm done." He pulls his favorite pair of black jeans out of his wardrobe and starts stepping into them. "And you bitches know you owe me."

"Shawn's not here," Peter moans like he's been stabbed in the chest.

There's that tingling feeling again. But now instead of in his palm it's along the nape of his neck. Peter had fucked something up. Jeremy whips his shirt off and digs out what he has given up on pretending is not a woman's camisole that he has taken the darts out of.

"What did you do?" Jeremy asks, pulling out the eyeliner Beth had gotten him for his birthday. It's MAC, it came with a special brush and it has just a little bit of shimmer to it.

Peter blows a raspberry, attempts to sit up and abandons the attempt halfway through, collapsing pathetically back onto his bed.

"Fuck it. I lied to you too."

"And I am just wounded, dear." Jeremy runs the brush over his lash line, feeling better already.

"Remember I told you that Shawn came up here to return a book and we just suddenly made out and fooled around and exchanged horrible high school stories?"

"Vaguely, you only talked about it for like four hours while I was trying to write a term paper." Okay. He's going to need more eyeliner than that.

"Yeah. We actually made out in his room the previous Friday after he brought his girlfriend back to where she was staying."

"Why are you telling me this, Pete?" Jeremy asks, pulling out his collection of eye shadow.

"Because I went out of my way to keep you from finding out that after I made out with Shawn, and was really slow and careful and sweet with him-"

"-Aren't you just a knight?"

"I freaked out over going after the straight guy."

"That you were madly in love with."

"And I went back to the party, got wasted and," Jeremy can see Peter cringing in the mirror, "went to Anthony's room."

Jeremy's head flies up from his decision between black and purple shadow. He tosses them both back into the wardrobe, sweeps across the room and smacks Peter hard over the head.

"Ow. Not helping."

"But you have it coming. You cheated on Shawn?"

"We weren't dating yet."

Jeremy hits him again. "Does that sound like a real justification when you say it out loud?"

"No." Peter muttered, finally sitting up.

"So… how do I put this?" Jeremy drops his forehead into his palm. "How stupid are you?"

"Stupid."

"Did you fuck him?"

"Yes. A couple times over the weekend."

Peter ducks Jeremy's avenging hand this time. "Okay, you gotta stop doing that."

"So, what? Did finally crossing that line with Shawn just get you that horny? Were you just drunk and stupider than usual? Were you going to get back together with him?"

"I was never getting back together with Anthony."

"Well, I should fucking hope not. We hated that kid. Everyone hates that kid. I don't remember why you even talked to that kid. Sure. He's good looking in a freakishly muscular nerd way. But then he opens his mouth and makes you want  _to kill him_."

"I didn't ever really talk to him. When I went up there that I night I pretty much just-" Peter trails off under Jeremy's eyeliner charged glare.

"You pretty much just?" Jeremy prompts.

"I pretty much just turned him over."

"Kay- Say that to Shawn, and I'll hit you again."

"Who's a knight now?" Peter sighs, managing a little less than half a sneer. Jeremy hits him one more time for good measure.

"I'm not going to say that to Shawn. We just barely talked about the whole sex issue this weekend. It's not a go quite yet, and I don't think the line 'just turned him over' is going to do anyone any favors. I'm not that stupid."

"Yes. You are," Jeremy declared, returning to his wardrobe to finish his makeup. "So how did Shawn find out about this?"

Peter recaps the events in the stairway until Jeremy loses the will to roll his eyes any more.

"So… okay. Just to make sure I've got a handle on this whole thing… You took Shawn, the orphan-"

"He's not an-"

"Shut up. You're ruining my recap. You took Shawn, the orphan, home with you, introduced him to your enormous family, let him be cookie hugged by your mom, had a couple romantic moonlit nights of naked car touching, brought him back here, and when he felt safe enough with you that he actually brought up letting you cornhole him, Anthony, that rat bastard, slithers up behind you and announces that this whole trust, love and happiness high he's been riding for months, to the detriment of the only important relationship in his life, was built of a shaky foundation of rotting lies?"

"That is not even a little bit what happened, Jeremy-"

"I will bet you my entire wardrobe that's what Shawn thinks happened. I'm very good with people. The second I saw Anthony, I wanted him dead. Kid hadn't even talked yet." Jeremy began applying lid color.

"I know. You mentioned it. Like every day. For months. Can I tell you how I'm going to explain it to Shawn?"

"Fine."

"The second time we made out, the time things actually got a little serious, I told him about the senior year basketball trip, and how I just couldn't handle another guy flipping out on me. Okay? So I'm going to tell him about Brent, and why we broke up-"

"- telling Shawn that you dumped Brent because you didn't want to date a guy in the closet is a stupid idea."

"I'm going to use that to try to explain Anthony. How I don't care about Anthony. I don't even like Anthony, I never liked Anthony, he was just… he was the first person I could ever be out  _with_  and it was intoxicating."

"Are you going to bring up the dirty old website men you met up with in Philly?"

"Okay. One guy. And 27 is not old."

"It is when you are… 15?"

"I was 16."

"That's 11 years."

"It's not that unusual you know. It happens all the time. And seriously? I think every girl at Shawn's high school blew him. I don't think my one poorly thought out tryst would be that shocking. Don't you think that the story about the older guy can wait?"

"He may very well ask you who popped your cherry if he's going to let you pop his,"

Jeremy shrugs. "Depends on whether you want to sound like a slut or like a lying slut,"

"I'm not a slut."

"I'm just trying to Devil's advocate. You aren't that much of a slut," Jeremy attempts to appease Peter. But not really that hard, because he's still just pissed and amazed that Peter could be this dense. Jeremy realizes that Peter and Shawn's relationship is different than his and Beth's relationship, in a lot of ways, but he just can't imagine ever doing something like this to her. You forgive your friends a lot, and are forgiven in turn, but you protect a lover. The idea of hurting Beth like Peter just hurt Shawn makes him a little queasy. And Jeremy knows that he is way more like Shawn than Peter is.

"Anyway…yeah. I've been able to date someone who was out once, and it was a total disaster, but there was something about it I wasn't ever able to shake… and that first time with Coleman…Shawn will understand that some things fuck a person up. I wanted Shawn so badly, and I went after him. And I knew what happened when you went after the straight guy… so even though Anthony was awful… there was something safe about him. It was like undoing a mistake. Burning all that extra crap off so that Shawn and I could go back to being friends if that was all I could have from him. And it was stupid. And I should have told him earlier."

Jeremy sighs, and finishes blending his eye shadow.

"I think Shawn will understand that," he admits, pulling out his mascara, "But I don't think it will make him feel better."

"You don't?"

Jeremy finishes his makeup and sits down in his desk chair, across from Peter.

"Look, bro. I know you love him, but I don't think you have the best grip on what's going on in Shawn's head."

"Pain. Rage. Betrayal."

"No," Jeremy pulls his hands through his hair, "Not right now. In general. You think he's you… just held back a couple of years. And he's not. You think he's this cool, together, sweet artist dude, and that's not totally the case. He's kind of mess. You think he's gay, and I don't think he is."

"He has a boyfriend," Peter points out.

"He has someone who he trusts. Who cares about him. And who he can depend on. Someone who will run outside in his pajamas in the cold to make sure he's okay… and who swept in just as he was starting to lose the only other person in his entire life who that was true about."

"Are you telling me I'm his new Cory?" Peter asks, horrified.

"In a way. I'm not saying that he's, like, interested in Cory. I'm saying that you came in as he was starting to lose Cory, and after his whole horrible dating string, and getting shot down by Angela, you made him feel accepted and loved, and I think Shawn is the kind of person who is so starved for that feeling, that it didn't even matter that you weren't…quite his type."

"And now he thinks that screwing Anthony a couple months ago and never mentioning it is taking all of that away."

"Yes."

"I don't think I have ever felt this bad about anything before," Peter sighed, throwing himself back onto his bed.

"How long ago did this whole thing happen?" Jeremy asked.

"A couple hours ago. I went to the gym. I think I was on the treadmill for like two hours."

"Are you going to go talk to him?"

"Not tonight. Shawn needs space when he's upset," Peter says, before perking up for a second, "Could you go… just like, check on him?"

"It's going to be pretty obvious you sent me."

"That's sort of the idea. I don't want to get in his space, but I want him to know that I checked in."

Jeremy sighs again and returns to his wardrobe, "Fine. But you need to pick yourself up just a little bit by the time I get back, because I've been behaving at my parent's house all fucking weekend. I want to go back to being a bitch and I don't need you making me feel bad about it."

"Here. Take his shower stuff."

"Fine."

* * *

Cory opens the door to his dorm room and heads straight for Shawn's nightstand, grabbing Shawn's phone off of it. He flips it open, and just for a moment he is aware that everything Shawn hasn't told him for the last few months is here in this little device, and that he could, quite easily, flip through Shawn's texts, and get a relatively complete view of Peter, the New Gay Shawn, and exactly why Shawn hadn't told him.

The sound of Topanga throwing herself down on his bed pulls him back to reality, and he tells himself he isn't the kind of person who would really sit here and go through all of his best friend's private messages, even with his slip up earlier.

But he has no idea how to talk to his best friend anymore, and he has even less idea how to talk to Peter, who, if he's perfectly honest- he does hate.

He hates how Peter makes him nervous and uncomfortable, like he can't say anything around him. Then he feels guilty for feeling nervous and uncomfortable, which just makes him more nervous and uncomfortable.

And he already felt, in a childish, jealous way, like Peter had taken Shawn away from him just because Shawn hung out with Peter more than he hung out with Cory, but now it's even weirder. Peter hasn't just taken Shawn's time, he's made Shawn into someone Cory doesn't know. Shawn's already been adopting some of Peter's tastes and habits and ways of speaking, and now Peter's made Shawn…like him. Now Cory has to feel nervous and guilty and uncomfortable around Shawn too. He has to feel weird about changing in his own room. He has to relearn  _Shawn._

And he has no idea where to start.

"What's wrong?" Topanga asks, more of a growl than an inquiry.

Cory sits down on Shawn's bed and looks over at Topanga, sitting on his bed, Shawn's book of poetry in her lap.

"What am I going to say?"

"Just apologize to him for what you said about Peter," Topanga said. "He's your best friend, he knows you. He knows you're freaking out over something changing, just try to be the bigger man."

"But he doesn't know that I know just how much is changing. Am I supposed to pretend that I don't know he's…that he's gay?"

Topanga bites her lip, closes the book and sets it in her lap. She looks up at Cory with the look that he recognizes as her quietly frustrated, but still loving look. "Yes. You are."

"I am?"

"Look, honey, for whatever reason, he's not ready for you to know about this relationship, and I think, until you patch up a couple of holes, you need to respect that."

"He used to tell me everything."

"Cory. This is huge. This is really genuinely a huge thing for him to be going through. Maybe this isn't about you."

"Then why does everyone else know?"

"Eric said that he figured it out. Jack and Rachel caught them kissing."

"Angela?"

Topanga shrugged. "You know how important you are to Shawn. You know that you're best friends. But I think… I think there are things that he thinks… that he would think Angela would understand better. And maybe… maybe you're too important him for have tried this news out on your first."

"I just… I don't get it. Peter is so…. He's just awful, Topanga."

"I don't know, Cory. I've been looking at this book, and I think I get it."

"Get what?"

Topanga picks the book back up and fans her thumb thoughtfully across the pages. "I can't get over how romantic this is. I mean- giving the person you're dating a book of love poems is… kind of slick and cheesy, but this is… this whole book is dog eared and underlined and highlighted. It's like… this was obviously something really personal to Peter, and he… there's notes and sketches in here that make it look like he adapted it for Shawn. And then the receipts. It's… just… I can see why he might be just what Shawn needs. Eric said Shawn loves him and look at this," she flipped to a page with a vague little sketch of a boy who, based on the badly drawn hair, must have been Shawn, chewing on a pen, "He clearly dotes on Shawn."

"I don't know," Cory says. It's just a book, and the whole poetry thing is just another instance of how Peter is changing Shawn.

"Call. Apologize. Try to fix this."

Cory fiddles with the phone for a moment. He's not going to call.

"I don't know how," he admits. "I'm not sure I can do this."

Topanga purses her lips and sets the book down on Cory's nightstand. Cory tosses the phone on top of it with a sigh and Topanga reaches over and takes his hand. Cory grips it tightly and gives up entirely on Shawn for the day. He leans over and kisses Topanga, just a quick peck that she returns, then wraps his other hand around the back of her head and tries to open the kiss. She pushes him back.

"What are you doing?"

He looks at her like she's crazy, doesn't she remember what they were talking about on the way up?

"You said physical attention…right?"

Topanga pulls her hand away, "I didn't mean like this. So you don't have to deal with other things. Ugh," she stands up. "You know… Cory, I want to be here for you, but you really can be so insensitive sometimes."

Cory shoots up off his bed now too. "You know, Topanga, I don't know what everyone wants from me anymore. I thought you told me what you wanted."

"I did. But I didn't think I would have to add that I want letting our physical relationship progress would actually have something to do with our relationship, not Shawn's. That I want a little romance?"

"Actually, yes, Topanga, I did realize that," Cory says, "All I was going to do, was kiss my girlfriend, who I miss all of the time now, for a little comfort."

Topanga settles, wrapping her arms around herself and sitting back down. The fight apparently over that fast, Cory sits back down next to her.

"This long distance thing is harder than I'd thought it would be," Topanga admits.

* * *

"Thanks again for picking me up, Angela," Shawn says, coming back into her hotel room from the bathroom, where he almost managed to scrub the smell of Peter off of his hands.

"Of course. I mean, you aren't even dressed for the weather," Angela says, slipping her key card into the hotel room door and holding it open for Shawn. Shawn walks in and looks around the room, takes in the lush interior decorating, the nice view, the huge mini-bar and the luxurious king sized bed.

"Wow. This is a fancy ass place huh?"

"Yeah. My dad's overseas and I told him I'd rather do Thanksgiving in Philidelphia than Chicago. So I think he got me the swanky room as an apology for not being able to be here. There's a Jacuzzi and everything."

"So, you didn't get a family Thanksgiving, and I did?" Shawn tries to laugh, falling into the desk chair. "That's fucked up."

Angela continues into the room, tossing her coat toward the wall and sitting on the bed.

"It's not exactly the first time. That's what you get with one military parent. Plus I hate turkey," Angela shrugs, "And skipping Thanksgiving makes it easier to for him to be around for Christmas. And that's a lot more important than some stupid holiday based on racism, genocide, theft… you know the drill."

"Right."

"So… are you going to tell me what happened?"

Shawn raked back his hair and thought about it for a moment.

"Angela… I just… I would love to just have a little bit of time with you, where I'm not just dumping my problems all over you."

"You're a mess. Something bad happened. Dump."

Shawn stood, "Okay, then I would like an hour or two, where I can pretend I'm not so full of problems that I have to dump some off just to be able to function."

"So… what? Do you want to go to dinner with Cory and Topanga?"

"I can't pretend that hard. The last thing in the world that I can deal with right now is Cory."

"Shawn he's your best friend."

Shawn's throat tightened, "And if, after not talking to him for a week and a half, he sees me like this, and I have to explain that Peter cheated on me, it's going to be so much more than I can handle, I may not ever recover."

Angela sighs, "Fine. So, we'll just hang. You and me." She flops down on the king sized bed that takes up most of the middle of the far side of the room. "So what do you want to do?"

Shawn clears his throat, "Well… umm. Looks like you've got a Jacuzzi in the bathroom."

"Yes I do," she smiled, "I think I've got some little work out shorts in my suitcase if you want."

Shawn shrugs, with carefully calculated exaggerated nonchalance, "I don't have anything you haven't seen before."


	19. In Which Search Parties are Formed

"This long distance thing is harder than I thought it would be."

Topanga knows she shouldn't be saying this, that nothing good can possibly come from it, that Cory's strung to tight for her to be saying it right now.

But it's true.

"I miss you," Cory repeats, "I don't want you to leave again."

"Cory… Cory nothing has changed."

"I know that. No matter how far apart we are, we'll always love each other."

"I mean…" Topanga can't believe she's saying this, with everything else that he has going on, she can't believe she's even thinking of adding to that, it's just going to hurt him, but he… he put the phone down. He didn't call Shawn, he can't acknowledge any of the things that are changing. And it's not just Shawn… it's everything.

"No, Cory… I mean… nothing has changed here. At Yale… I'm…trying new things. I'm learning new things… I'm meeting new people. My roommate. Her friends. The drama kids, kids from class…Angela's dating someone new, she went out with the rock climbing group and some sort of dance group. Shawn's… got a poetry thing going on and is a serious relationship. Even Eric has an exciting new obsession with Rachel."

"Where are going with this?" Cory asked.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do, Topanga do you want to-"

He's interrupted by a loud rapping at the door.

"Shawn! Shawn, let me in. I've got stuff to do and I'm not going to stand out here while you do try to beat the consecutive moping record," more rapping, "let me in!"

Topanga rakes her hair back and gratefully takes advantage of the opportunity to abandon the topic. She bolts for the door, undoes the lock and pulls it open.

The man on the other side of the door is a shock. His clothes, his makeup. Even as a girl not the person she would ever expect to see Shawn with.

"Uhh… hi," He says, his carefully sculpted eyebrows raising high on his forehead, "I'm…"

"You must be Peter," Topanga extends her hand. The man on the other side of the door rolls his eyes.

"Yeah. I must be Peter. Cause I look like a basketball player."

"That's Peter's roommate," Cory says, coming to join her in front of the door.

"Jeremy," the man in the makeup supplies.

Topanga blushes, "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have…"

"No worries. Clearly Cory filled you in on the one important thing about Peter."

"I'm Topanga," Topanga extends her hand again, Jeremy takes it.

"She's my girlfriend."

Topanga's jaw tenses. She sees Jeremy notice it with a smirk.

"What do you want?" Topanga asks, still verging on polite, but possibly ready to agree with Cory about at least one of Shawn's new acquaintances.

"Why do you have Shawn's suitcase?" Cory asks.

Jeremy clears his throat and subconsciously moves the beat up thrift store suitcase that even Topanga recognizes behind his legs.

"Just dropping it off," he shrugs. "Cluttering up our room and a guy needs clean underwear."

"Shawn's not in your room?" Cory asked.

Jeremy looks apprehensive, but covers it by smoothing his carefully parted hair.

"Peter said he was down here. Why? How long have you been here?"

"Half an hour, forty five minutes," Topanga shrugged.

"Well, whatever. Here's his stuff."

"Wait, why would he be moping?" Cory demanded.

Jeremy looks startled for a split second, and instantly turns it into skepticism, "Moping?"

"You said moping, and then you brought him his clothes?" Cory's voice is rising. Topanga recognizes it, he's preparing to freak out about something, no matter what it is, "What's going on? Why doesn't Peter know where he is?"

"Cause Shawn's a grown up and Peter's not his keeper?" Jeremy offers.

"Did they have a fight?"

"Look, man I come bearing dirty pajamas and body wash. That's all I got."

"But Shawn's upset over something and he's gone?" Topanga asks, trying to sound a little more reasonable. Jeremy shrugs. "Jeremy if something happened we should probably find out where he is. If…if he and Peter had a fight or something… if Shawn… if he took off."

"Something terrible could happen," Cory cut in.

Jeremy arched an impeccable eyebrow. "Terrible?"

"When Shawn…disappears, stuff happens. He umm…"

"Tries to move to Texas, wanders around bad neighborhoods, gets drunk, does stupid things," Cory finishes.

Jeremy pauses, looking less than completely arrogant for a moment. "Gimme a second," he says. He pulls out his phone and rapidly clicks out a text.

"Why don't you come in," Topanga waves him in. Cory doesn't look thrilled about it, but Jeremy strolls in and drops onto Shawn's bed in a way that seems like he's comfortable in and familiar with the room.

"So… how was your thanksgiving?"

"Ugh. The usual," Jeremy sighs, "Trying to spend a whole four days not talking to anyone and maintaining the family expected blood alcohol level."

Jeremy's fuzzy memories, and Topanga's attempt to respond to them, are interrupted by another knock. Cory answers it this time, and a tall, broad, and extremely handsome young man with blond hair walks right into the room without invitation.

"Hey. Peter. Good to see you. Why don't you come on in?" Cory sneered.

The blond stops apprehensively, as though noting a mistake. "Sorry."

"So… what did you do?" Cory asks.

Peter answers with a glare. Jeremy clears his throat and Peter softens.

"Is this really as dire as you're making it out to be?" Peter demands.

"I know Shawn better than anyone," Cory asserts.

"When he disappeared after the screaming match you and he got into last week you didn't call out the troops."

"He was with you. He's been with you for the last week and a half. Again- what did _you_  do?"

"Look, let's just go look for him, and if we find him, how about we don't treat him like some sort of mental patient who escaped his guardians, okay?"

"What did you do, Peter?" Cory demands, his voice climbing just a little higher. Topanga glances over at Jeremy, who just reclines further back onto Shawn's bed, watching Cory and Peter as though they are a re-run of a show he's that he's seen too many times. Topanga rolls her eyes and wonders how Cory could possibly not understand why Shawn wouldn't talk to him about what was going on with Peter.

"He's been gone for a couple of hours, okay? I know him too, and you're right. Maybe we should see if we can find him. His phone's still down here right?"

"Yeah," Topanga answers him, grabbing Shawn's phone off of the nightstand and tossing it to Peter, who catches it easily and flips it open.

"What are you doing?" Cory asks, "You can't just go through his phone, that's personal."

"Shut-up, Cory," Topanga snaps, "Just shut-up. You aren't helping."

"You're taking his side?"

"I'm not taking anyone side. You're acting like a child. Just stop."

Cory huffs and wraps his arms around himself, fuming.

"I'm not going through anything personal. I'm just checking his outgoing calls to see if maybe he stopped in here, used it, and forgot it again," Peter says, "And there's nothing since before Thanksgiving. Shit," Peter tucks the phone in his pocket, "So we start looking then. Jeremy and I will check around campus-"

"He's not going to be on campus," Cory cuts in, "Not if he was really upset. He runs, and he runs  _away_ \- so was he really upset when you guys got back?"

Peter casts Cory a shrouded look. "Yes."

Cory gets just a touch of triumph on his face, "And why was that?"

Topanga watches Peter's face go completely still, except for his eyes, which go to Jeremy, who also goes completely still. They lock eyes for just a moment, clearly having exactly the type of telepathic conversation that Topanga has seen Cory and Shawn have a million times.

Peter lets out an angry, huffing breath, "Because I kissed him. Okay? He told me something personal, I let my feelings get the better of me, and he freaked out. You happy? I'm a predator, you're a prophet, let's just go fucking find him."

"Ugh… dude," Jeremy sighs, with a sincerity that has Topanga imagining him wearing his lacy black mass of clothes and polishing Oscars, "You didn't! Not after what happened with Brent! And me! You and your fucking straight guys!"

"I know!" Peter yelled back, not quite with Jeremy's acting caliber, "I screwed up. Let's just go. Jeremy- you and I should go check out coffee shops, Aunt Violet's is right on the bus line, and there's that place down the block, we do a lot of math homework down there."

"We'll go to Chubbies," Topanga says, "Err… Peg Leg Pete's."

"No," Cory says, giving Peter some serious fish eye, "He wouldn't go there," he turns to Topanga, "You go with Peter. We need some… space. I'll go with Jeremy. One college friend and one high school friend on each team."

"I'm not spending my only day of vacation with you Matthews," Jeremy chimes in, "You're extremely grating. You go Shawn hunting with your girlfriend."

Cory looks at him in total shock, clearly not expecting that level of honesty.

"Come on, man," Peter hisses at Jeremy.

"Let's just move," Topanga sighs, getting up and grabbing her coat, "I know where Aunt Violet's is, Jeremy and I will start there, you two take a high school place and call us with any suggestions."

Cory and Peter give each other a glare that Topanga can't believe isn't making steam pour out both of their ears.

"And try to get along."

Jeremy chuckles. Cory grabs his coat, Peter's already wearing his. Peter throws the door open and stalks out of it, and Cory follows him.

Jeremy blows a raspberry, "Well. This is very much in keeping with the Thanksgiving spirit." He gets up off Shawn's bed and stretches languorously. "Maybe they'll kill each other and I'll finally get some fucking sleep."

"Are Peter and Cory always like that?"

"All three times they've talked? Yeah. Pretty much. Your boyfriend's an idiot."

Topanga doesn't even try to be affronted, "I know."

"My roommate's not much better sometimes. I've got to get my coat and my car keys, we can start at the coffee shop down the block, then hit Aunt Violet's. There's a Perkins and a little bookstore on the other side of the bus route where he might have ended up at too."

Jeremy walks to the door and hold it open for Topanga.

"So… what's going on?" Topanga asks.

"In what way?" Jeremy asks, holding the door to the stairwell open for her too. Topanga marks how much more polite he is with Cory and Peter gone.

"Why did Peter lie?"

"About what?"

"About losing control and kissing Shawn?"

"Why would Peter lie about something like that? That's humiliating." Jeremy shrugged.

"Look, I know he lied, Jeremy. What really happened?"

Jeremy held open another door for her.

"I have no idea what really happened. I spent the holiday drunk in Manhattan, trying to hide out so that no one saw me in jeans, and inventing personalities for law professors I have never met, but am supposed to be taking classes from."

"Ugh," Topanga groans. "This is insane! I mean… I figured something was going on, but I never thought it would be this." Jeremy ushers her into his room. "I'm actually a little relieved. Shawn ducking out of his life is always a bad sign, I was starting to accrue some pretty sinister theories for what was going on. It's actually almost nice that Shawn's just gay."

"Shawn's not gay," Jeremy says casually, grabbing a black pea coat off of the hook behind his door and grabbing his keys off of his desk.

"Jeremy, I found the Neruda book. Cory more or less accidently found a text from Angela confirming that Peter and Shawn are dating. Eric told us that they've been together for months. I know they're dating. It's okay."

"They aren't dating," Jeremy says, still calm and casual as he opens the door for her again.

"Did they break up?"

"They were never dating. You know what Eric's like. And there's no tone in texting. Cory probably misunderstood Angela."

"I know you're lying!" Topanga huffs, starting to get fed up with the snippy goth guy she'd been assigned to for their wild goose chase, "And I'm fully capable of opening a door."

Jeremy considers her for a moment, closes the door and sets his hand to his hip. "Okay, look. From what Shawn's told us about you, you sound pretty cool. You sound brilliant, caring, and capable. So let me lay this out for you, because I think you're on our level. One? Whatever Cory used to be for Shawn, he isn't anymore. Where he used to help he's hurting. Shawn moved, Cory didn't, and being held back hurts him. I'm not saying Cory does it on purpose, but there we are, and from the fight I think I walked into, I think you're aware of that. Two? It's taken me nearly a year and a half to convince Peter of this- but it's not lying, if they make you lie. Take that how you will. And three? I hold the door for women in order to indicate respect. If it offends you, just ask me to stop."

Topanga considers him for a moment.

"Let's just get looking."

Jeremy nods and opens the door for her.

* * *

"I just think it's suspicious that Shawn would get upset enough to run away, just because you kissed him, when he didn't care last time," Cory attempts to wheedle. Fucking weirdo Peter and his stupid vampire roommate and their bizarre bullshit. If Peter hadn't changed Shawn so much, Cory wouldn't even need him in order to look for Shawn. But no. Peter had taken Shawn to all of these new places and now here Cory was- stuck in the car with him, while he lied.

"Well, newsflash Matthews- I don't give a damn what you think."

Peter and Cory had managed to get all the way out to the parking lot before having an argument about whose car they would take, which was quickly ended when it turned out Cory had a full tank and Peter's was nearly empty.

"So why did your girl stick you with me?"

Cory flushes. "Don't talk about Topanga. At all." At least after what Jeremy said to him Cory doesn't have to pretend to be polite.

"Fine. Then don't talk to me if it's not about finding Shawn."

"What is going on with you and Shawn?"

"That's not about finding Shawn."

"It's about Shawn. My best friend. Who bolted after some mysterious thing that you did to him."

"I told you what I did. You were right. Okay? Where are we going?"

"The Pink Flamingo trailer park."

"Why would he go there?"

"Because he grew up there."

"I know that," Peter snapped as Cory took a corner entirely too fast, "I meant why would we go there, he hates it there and he's ashamed of being from there."

"He'd go there if he was upset, and you hurt him."

Cory starts as Peter pounds his fist into the center console of the car. "I did not HURT Shawn!" he barks, "It was just a kiss. It's not like I held him down or something. I would NEVER hurt Shawn."

"He wouldn't have run away if you hadn't hurt him somehow."

"We aren't even sure he ran away. You just think so little of him that we all have to go hunt him down in case he does something you wouldn't approve of."

"I think so little of him?"

"You don't want him to be friends with me because you think he can't take care of himself. You think that he's stumbling around blind like some lonely little second grader who just needs someone to eat lunch with. You're the idiot who thought he was going to have the first ever recorded llama related death."

"So he told you about that?"

"He tells me about a lot of things. We're friends," Peter groans, "You twat."

"Yeah. And he used to tell me about a lot of things before he met you. And now you're along for the ride, so you either believe me, or you don't think much of him either. And since you, and me, and Jeremy and Topanga all know that you're lying about kissing him, something even worse must have happened."

" 'Something even worse'" Peter sneers, "Your girlfriend's right. You are a child."

"I mean it MacDonald, one more fucking word about Topanga and I will leave you by the side of the road."

"Fag like me? I'll just blow truckers for rides back to campus."

"Have I ever called you that?" Cory demands with a howl. "Have I ever said anything that awful to you?"

"You constantly imply it. You damn near say it to Shawn all of the time- which does hurt him, but the way. You don't want us to be friends because I'm gay. You don't want him to hang out with me because I'm gay."

"It's not because you're gay," Cory snaps.

"Then why?" Peter snaps back.

Cory slams on the brakes as they pull into the abandoned lot where the Pink Flamingo Park still barely stands, only a few trailers still left between the large muddy tracks. He throws the car in park, and yanks his seat belt off.

"It's because I don't like you," Cory announces, climbing out of the car.

Peter laughs and follows him out of the car.

"Finally! Some straight talk from Cory Matthews. Why don't you like me?

"You are an arrogant, creepy, self absorbed jerk who thinks he knows fucking everything. You treat me like I'm too stupid to tie my shoe laces, you treat Shawn like you own him, and I think you are some kind of drunken psycho."

"I do NOT treat Shawn like I own him," Peter spits back, "God! You are pathetic. You're convinced that nothing good could possibly be happening outside of your fenced in little corner of the world. You're terrified of unlocking that gate and even poking your nose out, and you do everything in your power to keep Shawn and Topanga chained up in there with you!"

Cory slams Peter into the side of his car. Peter instantly grabs him by the collar, cocks his fist and stops just shy of actually connecting his fist to Cory's face before throwing Cory away from him.

"Let me be clear, Matthews," Peter growls, "I  _really_  want to hit you. But I'm not going to, because it would upset Shawn if I did." He takes a couple steps back and looks out over the trailer park.

"Did Shawn tell you that I'm… chaining him back?" Cory demands.

"No in so many words," Peter says, his tone still low and pissed off.

"So what did he actually say?"

Peter turns, evaluates Cory for a moment, and then in a tone with only a little less anger in it says, "He said he's afraid of outgrowing you. That he doesn't know how to explain things to you anymore, but he can't really wrap his head around you not being his best friend."

"When did he tell you that?"

"When we fi-" Peter catches himself, drops his face into his hands, and Cory suddenly realizes that Peter's stupid lie about why he and Shawn are fighting is his (arrogant, creepy, psychopathic) way of protecting Shawn. From Cory. "When we first started hanging out."

Cory stands silent for a moment. Peter kicks his toe into the dirt.

"He isn't here. Let's keep moving."

Cory looks at him for a second. Eric had said that Shawn was in love with him. There had to be some sort of reason in there somewhere. Shawn had done a lot of stupid things over the years, but he'd never stayed in a destructive relationship. But there was still a first time for everything.

"Where do you think he'd go?"

Peter sighs and rakes his hair out of his face, "We're near the downtown library. He loves it there."

"I don't know where that is," Cory admits.

Peter scoffs, "Yeah. I guessed that. Give me your keys."

Cory hesitates, but tosses them over. Peter catches them easily and slides into the driver's seat. Cory drops into the passenger's side.

"Do you really think I'm holding Shawn and Topanga back?"

"Do you care what I think?"

"No," Cory answers, but as he doesn't manage to convince himself, he's not sure why he would expect Peter to believe him.

* * *

"So," Jeremy says, holding open the door of the fifth coffee shop they've checked out, "You and boy wonder. Everything alright?"

"I thought you guys hated Cory?"

"We don't hate Cory," Jeremy answers, "We aren't his biggest fans. We dislike him. Peter really dislikes him. But we don't hate him. I was more concerned with whether or not you were alright. I get the impression that I interrupted a fight that was a long time brewing."

Topanga wraps her arms around herself and shivers a little. "Have you ever been in a long distance relationship, Jeremy?"

"I have not," Jeremy replies, scanning the room, "Why do you ask?"

"That's just, that's what Cory and I were fighting about," She follows Jeremy's scan, "He isn't here. I still think we should check out campus. He might even be back in his dorm by now."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Jeremy asks.

"We should keep looking," Topanga replies.

"To be perfectly frank- Shawn had two or three hours to get himself in trouble before we even started to look for him. If he really was going to get drunk or Texan, he would have by now. If he doesn't want us to find him, he won't be in the places where he knows we'll look, and four people can't canvas all of Philadelphia. I can check the entire campus with three texts, and I need some sugar and whip cream."

Topanga shrugs, "I can't fault your logic. And I could use some green tea."

Jeremy nods and they walk over to the counter, where he asks the heavily tattoed barista if he'd seen someone matching Shawn's description. The young man shakes his head, and Jeremy orders a cup of black tea and a mocha frappachino. He slips the guy a bill, tells him to keep the change, and the barista says he'll bring it out to them.

"You didn't have to pay for me," Topanga says.

Jeremy shrugs, "It's my parents money. Don't worry about it. There's another buck fifty where that came from."

He pulls a chair out, indicates that it's for her, and then takes his own seat. Topanga's not sure what she thinks of his exaggerated and old fashioned chivalry. She would normally be willing to accept holding the door open as polite, but it seems like paying and pulling a chair out for a girl you aren't dating is sort of… chauvinistic simply by virtue of being anachronistic.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket with a flourish of his lacy cuff.

"Behold while I search campus." He fires off three texts, then sets his phone down on the table as the barista delivers their drinks.

"Who did you text?"

"Shelly. I know for a fact she's been in the library all day. She's got a huge presentation tomorrow and she gets really anxious. If he's there, she'll see him. She'll also check in with her boyfriend, who works for campus security, who'll see Shawn if he's just wandering around. Ambrose works in the union, and Brianne lives down the hall from Cory and Shawn and won't mind walking down there and knocking every once in a while."

Topanga sighs, "Cory doesn't know any of those people does he?"

"He does not," Jeremy confirmed.

"And that's the fight," Topanga says, "He's not meeting people, he's not doing anything. He's not trying or changing. He's hiding out in his room, refusing to adapt and its… all of my friends are having these awesome weekends at home reconnecting with high school friends. Yeah, they're going to their old favorite places, but they're… they're catching up on things they've missed. If it weren't for all this, honestly familiar, Shawn angst, it would be like nothing changed at all. You're the only new person I've met through Cory, and that was just by accident. It's exhausting. I feel like I've spent this whole break dragging him kicking and screaming just to get him a little less far behind everyone else. I picked out his classes. I'm trying to get him to at least attempt to hang out with Shawn and Peter."

"Mmm," Jeremy interrupted, "That's not going to happen. Trust me. I hang out with Shawn and Peter. Peter tried to get Cory to hang out with them, Cory couldn't grow up enough to do it, and now Peter resents him too much to want to try. And, because Peter resents him, Cory feels alienated, and because his two most important people can't get along, Shawn feels torn, and can't handle having them together. Plus… there's stuff. Having those two in the same room is going to lead to some overlapping of worlds that Shawn can't let overlap yet. Sending the two of them out searching together is probably the most time they have ever spent within five feet of each other and my girlfriend and I have already put bets down on who comes back with a bruise. I've got 50 bucks on Cory. With apologies." He tips his big plastic cup to her.

"You don't really think Cory's homophobic do you?" Topanga asks.

Jeremy shrugs. "You're his one true love. What do you think?"

"I don't know. No one in our high school was… we didn't know any gay people. I don't think he's had enough exposure to actually form an opinion, and being uncomfortable with Peter is half kindergarten "you're stealing my friend" jealousy and half "Ahh- new thing I don't understand!" panic."

"That's pretty much what I figured. Boy's got a comfort zone and he's wrapping barbed wire around it."

"It's just so stupid," Topanga continues, "All Cory wants is for Shawn to be in a long term relationship. That's it. That's what he's wanted for Shawn since before Cory and I started dating. You should have seen the way he flipped out when Shawn and Angela…." Topanga slaps her palm to her forehead.

"When he and Angela?" Jeremy prompts.

"Angela. We're so stupid. He's with Angela. She's got a car, he must know we don't know where she's staying. He's with Angela."

She pulls out her phone and dials. Angela doesn't pick up.

"I'm sure he's with her."

She calls again. Still no answer.

She drops her phone down on to the table.

"Fantastic."

"When he and Angela what?" Jeremy asked again.

"What?"

"You said I should have seen Cory when Shawn and Angela did what?"

"Oh. When they broke up."

Jeremy takes a long pull from his frappachino, "He's staying with his ex-girlfriend?" he asks.

"I'm sure of it."

Jeremy takes another pull of his drink, "I'm going to the restroom. If you'll excuse me."

Topanga notices the way that Jeremy grabs his phone, but he takes off too fast for her to ask him about it.


	20. In Which Cory Accuses

Angela sighs, "Fine. So, we'll just hang. You and me." She flops down on the king sized bed that takes up most of the middle of the far side of the room. "So what do you want to do?"

Shawn clears his throat, "Well… umm. Looks like you've got a Jacuzzi in the bathroom."

"Yes I do," she smiled, "I think I've got some little work out shorts in my suitcase if you want."

Shawn shrugs, with carefully calculated exaggerated nonchalance, "I don't have anything you haven't seen before."

Angela rolls her eyes, "Let's not get too bohemian here. Have you eaten?"

Shawn shakes his head and sets his fingers against his stomach. "Uh… can't."

"Right. I'd forgotten you do that," Angela sighed. "Well, I'm starving and I'm guessing that dinner with Cory and Topanga is off the table."

Shawn looked up at her briefly. She didn't look distraught over the prospect. "If you want to see them you can go. I can hang out here. Watch some cable. Whatever."

"It's fine. Topanga and I were already planning a coffee thing before we both leave. So that we can talk about Cory, I'm sure." Angela rubs her finger tip against her temple the way she does when she's not sure she should have said something. "Maybe we can all do something tomorrow night. I'm hanging out until Monday, and I think Topanga is too."

"Yay," Shawn sighs, utterly without enthusiasm.

"I'm going to order Chinese. Do you want to order something in case you're hungry later?"

"Fine. Toss some egg rolls in there for me. You mind if I take a shower?"

"Go for it," Angela answers as she grabs her phone and dials. Shawn pads into the bathroom and sees himself in the mirror. He's shocked at how tired he looks. He swore he felt good when he woke up this morning.

He pulls his shirt off and drops it onto the tile, then drops his pants on top of it, trying to ignore the bite mark on his shoulder, the hickey above his nipple and the nail scratches along his side, even though he can practically hear the throaty type of howl tearing out of Peter's throat, muffled by his own skin.

A shiver runs down his spine.

Peter's cologne in his lungs. Peter's hair tickling against his neck. Peter's arms wrapped around him, his nails and teeth digging into him, Peter's moan vibrating along his shoulder as he empties himself onto Shawn's stomach.

Anthony's knowing smirk and perfect body slinking past them.

His eyes sting again. He bites the inside of his cheek and turns the shower on, stepping into the hot water with a sigh of defeat.

Peter's lazy chuckle as he traces soap bubbles across Shawn's skin. His fingers massaging Shawn's scalp while he teases him about his expensive shampoo.

This is not where he'd wanted to wind up tonight.

And he probably only had a couple of hours before he had to deal with Cory.

He stood in the shower much, much longer than necessary, trying to let the warm sink through him. Toying with the details of how he would lie to Cory and Topanga. He'd just pretend to be sick while he recovered. Cory might just be so relieved about Peter he wouldn't even ask why he wasn't around.

He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, his skin flushed to a deep burning pink, nearly red next to the white of the towel he patted himself dry with. He wrapped the towel around his waist, picked his shirt up off the floor, pressed it to his face and breathed. No. Still smelled too strongly.

There's a soft knock at the door.

"Come in."

Angela steps inside, holding a nice looking robe with the hotel logo embroidered on the lapel. She holds it out to him with a shrug, and he sees her eyes flick over his body, clearly taking in the marks.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"Yeah," She replies, "So the Chinese place is actually around the corner, and they said it'll be ready for pick up in like 10 minutes. So I'm just going to go get it. You, stay here, relax, and pick out a movie on pay-per-view and when I get back, we'll eat Chinese and take a little mental vacation from our lives. Good plan?

"Perfect."

Angela leans in and kisses him on the cheek before turning and leaving. Shawn wraps himself in the robe, which just smells like bleach, goes out in the room and throws himself back onto Angela's bed. He flips through the pay per view menu, looking for anything that isn't a romantic comedy, which he can't handle on any level. An action movie that looks like it's going to demand too much emotional investment, and a buddy comedy that doesn't look too gross. He doesn't select it, just sits and waits for Angela to come back.

When she returns she comes back with both hands full. Despite Shawn's claim that he won't eat she hands him a container of house fried rice and a fork.

Shawn hits play and they settle back the utter inanity of the movie washing over them. Angela expertly scarfs down her low-mein with her chopsticks, grinning at Shawn in victory when he starts picking the shrimp out of his fried rice and manages to eat about a quarter of the container before setting it on the nightstand. Angela hands him her own empty container to get out of the way as well.

"So… what about your love life?" Shawn asks.

"My love life?"

"Yeah. All I ever do is bitch about my whole… orientation conundrum. What about your relationship?"

Angela sighs and shifts down on the bed. "Oh right. That. I don't know. I'm not… _not_ dating Clint."

"His name was Clint?"

"It still is. We're still dating. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"We haven't broken up yet, but it's coming."

"Fighting?"

"No. Just… it's getting boring. Dying a slow boring death. I don't think I've even talked to him in the last week."

"Doesn't avoiding someone for that long count as breaking up?" Shawn asks.

"When was the last time you talked to Cory?" Angela counters.

"This last semester has actually made me really uncomfortable with talking about mine and Cory's friendship as though it's a romantic relationship."

"Well. How much difference is there, really?"

"Cory and I don't have sex?" Shawn scoffs, "Thank God."

"Did you and Peter-"

"I don't know. Maybe? I'm not totally sure what counts as sex when it's two guys. I read somewhere that oral counts, in which case yeah, all kinds of sex, but I don't think we were counting it… so not really," Shawn sighs."It was… it was on the table, but," he clears his throat. "What happened to not talking about this?"

"You brought it up."

Shawn turns his head away from her, but she continues.

"So, what happened?"

Shawn swallows deeply, rolls back over to face her, and tells her everything. Telling Eric and Jack. The fight with Cory, telling Peter that he was in love with him. The weekend. Peter's family. Peter touching him in the car. Peter wanting to go home early so they could have some privacy. Telling Peter he was ready to talk about having sex. Anthony.

"So yeah," Shawn mutters, "I screwed up my life, I switched teams for him, I  _love_ him, I told him things I've never told anyone, let him in in ways… I read him a poem I'd written for him. And he cheated on me."

"Is it really cheating?"

Shawn glares at her. "He kissed me,  _then_  fucked Anthony. Cheating."

"You weren't dating. He thought you were straight."

"It wasn't like we had a few drinks and then got a little frisky. It was intense. I told you about it. We had this whole, deep  _thing_  and then made out."

"You used to just make out with girls all the time. In public places."

"I used to suck face with girls in Chubbies. This was different. This was like… this wasn't like a first anxious hormonal make out….this was like…this was like you and me before we broke up. Like a comfortable dating making out. It wasn't that much different than how Peter and I make out now. And then he left and spent the entire weekend  _plowing_  Anthony. Who is… even I know this guy is good looking. Like crazy good looking. He's got arms like a well fed python."

"And we're still running on the assumption that you're straight?" Angela asks, with a little bit of gentle snark to her tone. She tucks her feet against his, sets her hand over his elbow.

"Does it really matter anymore?" Shawn asks, annoyed. He's sick of this discussion. He doesn't even care what he is at this point. The person he loves lied to him and he can't figure out if he wants to hit him or hold him.

He shifts closer to her. She sighs.

"I don't know… I mean sure, people experiment in college it just seems like… You're in a relationship that is… harder than your other relationships. You're hiding and you're nervous and you're having to re-examine all these things about yourself. Doesn't that have to-"

"Yeah," Shawn cuts her off and wriggles closer again, setting his arm around her waist. "It is harder. And who knows me like you do Angela? I'm not really prepared to be in the "advanced class" for relationships anyway. Right?"

He starts tracing his hand up and down her arm and moves his face closer to hers.

"I miss… when things were… fathomable. Comfortable. You know?"

Angela hmms in response and Shawn nudges his face just that little bit further forward and kisses her.

* * *

"So. You take Shawn here?" Cory asks. He sounds accusatory. He can hear it. But this isn't Shawn. It's all vaulted ceilings and big stain glass windows and very serious looking girls with big glasses hunched over books.

"Actually Jeremy loves this place and we meet him here for tutoring every once in a while. But yeah. Shawn loves it here. It's peaceful and it's beautiful."

"So. Where do we look for him? Poetry section or just find a group of high school girls hanging out looking for college studs?"

Peter gives him a look of entirely unveiled disdain and starts walking, "Just keep an eye out okay? We'll check the fountain, the study cove and you'll just shut the fuck up so that he doesn't just hide in the stacks when he hears you coming."

"When he hears me coming? He's upset with you."

"He's upset with both of us," Peter sighs.

"What did I do?" Cory demands.

One of the intense girls in the glasses shushes them and Peter whips down an aisle as though he's trying to ditch Cory. Cory catches him up.

"What did he tell you I did?" Cory demands again. Another shush comes from somewhere behind the stack of books and Peter jerks his head toward the exit.

"For the record," Peter huff, as they step outside, "In these big fancy buildings full of books, people don't appreciate people loudly bitching about stuff that they should already know, not least of all because I just told them. You know what you did, Cory. Now come on. There's this godawful dive malt shop across the street that he loves."

"No! I know what you did!" Cory replies.

Peter freezes and turns back around, taking a couple of steps into Cory's personal space, looming over him.

"And what is that?"

"You swept in with your stupid, college-y sophomore, ultra-liberal poetry weirdness."

"News flash, Brillo-head," Peter snaps, "Your boy already liked poetry. It's something we bonded over while he was lonely because you were ignoring him."

"I would have known if Shawn liked poetry," Cory replies. Why were they arguing about this? Did it matter? Would Peter really be getting into this argument with him about Shawn liking the Counting Crows in high school? "This is something that you got him into, that you think I'm too stupid to follow along with."

One of the girls with glasses shushes them. Peter's jaw clenches and he starts back for the door. Cory follows and Peter ducks back into a little alcove near the dumpsters.

"Did you know that Shawn can recite the Wasteland?"

"The what?"

"The Wasteland. TS Elliot. It's a post modern masterpiece. He read it after his mom left the first time. He's read it so many times that he has it memorized. He quotes it all the time."

"And you think that because you know that and I don't, that he's outgrowing me? That just because we don't sit around talking about old dudes writing emo crap, because we have actual stuff in common, that he's outgrowing me?"

"No. He's outgrowing you because you won't grow."

"He's not outgrowing me, he's being drug along behind you. You changed him with your creepy coffee shop going and your scarf wearing and your poetry reading."

Peter, who has been getting redder as this conversation goes on, begins to tinge purple. "Are you saying that you can't be Shawn's friend anymore, because I," his fingers snap into air quotes like claws, " _made him_  like poetry"?"

"You just said he already liked poetry," Cory manages, beginning to realize that he may have pushed Peter too far. He's shaking with rage, and Cory's not sure when he pushed this far.

"Let's drop the metaphor, or for you probably euphemism- don't worry I'll explain both of those to you later- did you just accuse me of turning Shawn gay?"

Cory sets his shoulders back. "So are you finally admitting that you're dating him?"

"You know, you are incredibly obsessed with who Shawn is dating. Maybe you're a little jealous."

"What?" Cory demands.

"Girlfriend you've been with for almost five years, never slept with her, no urge to stray with her a couple states over, wholly dependent on your best friend, and you  _hate_  me," Peter shoves him up against the wall for punctuation, "… are you in love with Shawn?"

"No!" Cory spits, "No! I'm in love with Topanga. I haven't slept with her because I respect her. When she says no I respect that. And she always says no."

"Right," Peter sneers. "And you're constantly pissing and moaning about Shawn because-"

"He's my best friend. Are you in love with Jeremy?"

Peter scoffs, "No. But I don't flip out over every fucking thing Beth does either. And I  _am_  in love with Shawn. I am so, so in love with Shawn." Peter lets go of the front of his shirt. Cory tries to straighten himself out.

"So you and Shawn  _are_ dating?"

"I didn't say that. But you've been saying this whole time that you think I spread "the gay" to Shawn like it's a disease that he caught from me."

Cory doesn't care anymore. "Didn't he?"

The side of Cory's face blossoms in pain, and Peter slowly comes back into focus just before Cory finds himself thrown into the rough brick of the library wall.

* * *

Angela's mouth is warm and familiar, and slightly salty with Chinese food.

And it makes Shawn sad. He's done questionable things, but he's never cheated, and he's never consciously used someone like this. He moves further into the kiss, and Angela kisses him back.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Mmmhmmm, hey," Angela pulls back. "Come on. You're a better guy than this. You care about me too much to do this. You love Peter too much to do this."

"I know… I just… God, Angela, you have no idea how much I wish I could start this year over sometimes."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." Angela sits up, and puts a respectable distance between them. "Come on. Let's watch a shitty move, pretend we are normal happy people. You can stay here to night." She shoulder checks him. "But no funny business.


	21. In Which Shawn and Angela Speak Truth

Angela's mouth is warm and familiar and slightly salty with Chinese food.

And it makes Shawn sad. He's done questionable things, but he's never cheated, and he's ever used someone like this. He moves further into the kiss, and Angela kisses him back.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Mmmhh, hey," Angela pulls back. "Come on. You're a better guy than this. You care about me too much to do this. You love Peter too much to do this."

"I know… I just… God, Angela. You have you have no idea how much I wish I could start this year over sometimes."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Angela sits up, and puts a respectable distance between them. "Come on. Let's watch shitty movie, pretend we are normal, happy people. You can stay here tonight." She shoulder checks him. "But no funny business."

Shawn sighs, rolls onto his back and covers his face with his hand. "Fuck."

Angela pats his elbow. "It's okay."

"No. It's not," Shawn sighed. "You were right, Peter… what Peter did…"

"It's okay, Shawn."

"No… I just… I get it."

"Kissing me cleared it up?"

Shawn can hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes," Shawn replied, his hand still over his eyes. Angela sets her hand over his forearm. He can feel the warmth of her on his skin. She's warm like a forest fire. Peter's warm like a hearth.

He sighs and sits up, letting his hands fall to his sides.

"Before… right before this… Anthony shit happened…" Shawn starts. "We had this… intense weekend. I met his whole family. He's got two parents. Three brothers. Aunts. Uncles. A sister in law. A nephew."

"Big family."

"Big welcoming family," Shawn sighs. "And… they liked me and I felt…"

"Normal," Angela supplies. Her voice sounds strange, low and gravely.

Shawn shakes his head, that isn't quite it. "I… when we… his Mom sent me home with like a weeks worth of food… and Peter and I…" he sighs and looks over at Angela. She's looking down at her hands, bottom lip sucked into her mouth.

"I told him, that we could… I wanted to talk about…" he trails off. It's hard enough to say this, without bringing up to the first girl he'd ever slept with.

"You wanted him to fuck you?"

Shawn feels his shoulders go tight. He turns away.

Angela's hand settles on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Shawn shakes his head again. "Things with Peter were… are… fuck. Fuck!" Shawn stand up and starts pacing around the room. "Yes. You know what? That's what I wanted. I just… fuck, Angela. I fooled around with so many girls in high school, and there's… look, there's the kind of girl who takes her top off in the back of your car because she wants you to think she's exciting. There's the sort of girl who will blow you on a first date because she thinks it'll make you like her enough to keep dating her. There are so many girls who are okay with dating a guy like me for a couple weeks, fooling around, sowing a few wild oats and going on to a respectable guy. And then… there was…  _you_. You know?"

Angela shakes her head. Draws herself up a little. Shawn is suddenly struck by how small she looks on the bed. "Shawn, where are you going with this?"

"I told Peter that we could talk about… sex." Shawn admits, turning away from Angela as he says it. It feels so weird to be talking to her about these things face to face. It's so much easier when she's just a voice in his ear. "Not that we could have sex, nothing in detail, just that we could talk about it."

"Okay."

"Because it was such a nice weekend. We hung out with his family, and we went for moonlit walks in the snow and held hands and I read him my poetry and he told me I was talented and beautiful, and I want…" Shawn gulps. "I never took advantage of any of those girls. I never pushed, I never went out with a girl just because I thought she'd take her top off or suck my cock. I always told them they didn't have to if they didn't really want to."

"I know," Angela says. "I remember."

"When we…" Shawn starts then clears his throat and stops pacing. No. He isn't going to talk about sleeping with Angela right now. He can't compare his first time with her to the first time with Peter he's been imagining for weeks. It's not right.

"I've only  _slept with_  you, but I've been with enough girls to know that it always takes trust to be…"

"Intimate?" Angela suggests.

"Vulnerable," Shawn corrects. "Like… the first time Peter and I talked after we made out, Peter was vulnerable with me. He asked me not to freak out about the… thing that was happening between us. Not to go all macho on him. He told me about guys who had hurt him. He asked me, straight out, not to hurt him. And he's done all these things for me, to make me feel… safe, and loved, and secure, and fuck, Angela, it's so hard to feel like that. It's so fucking hard. And I… I was ready to be…"

Shawn sighs, and lowers his voice, completely embarrassed to say what he's trying to say. "I wanted him to make love to me." He wipes his hand over his face, trying to brush away the Lifetime Channel moment that just happened. "I…wanted to know that I could be vulnerable with him like that. I kind of felt like… that was the last piece. Like…" Shawn expels a breath and drops down onto the corner of the bed. "Like everything would be easier if I could just explain that to him, and then do it."

He pulls his legs up onto the bed, sitting cross legged and turning back toward Angela. He can't look up at her quite yet, he has to get this all out. "It's stupid. I know it's stupid, but I sort of felt…like knowing I could do that with Peter would make it easier to… not be so confused. Make up with Cory. I know it's insane to have so much pinned on just…. sex. I mean… I know it's just going to be sex. And it's going to be my first time doing it like that, so it might not even be good sex. It's certainly not going to be magic sex that will make everything okay… I just… I told him that I was ready to talk to him about all this stuff that I know I've been building up too much in my head… and he told me he fucked some guy who is… handsome, and muscular and gay without all my fucking baggage… and I felt like I was… insane for…" he trails off, not sure how to finish his sentence.

Angela moves on the bed beside him, and slides her hand into his. Shawn feels a tear well over his eyelid, and wipes it away with the heel of his free hand. He looks up at her, surprised to find that Angela has teared up too.

"Trusting Peter wasn't insane," she rumbles, wiping the pad of her finger delicately across the lower lid of her eye.

"Then why is it so hard, Angela? Maybe ignoring my instincts is what's made this year such a fucking tragedy."

Angela squeezed his hand. "You have to ignore those instincts, Shawn."

"How can you-"

"I do know, Shawn."

Shawn watches as she wipes her fingertip across her eyelid again. Her tone says everything. She is absolutely understands what Shawn has been trying to stutter out for the last ten minutes. He needs to ask her how she knows, but can't find a way to phrase the question.

"I…" Angela takes a deep breath, and squeezes his hand again. "I never told you this. But my mother left my family when I was little too. My father didn't go after her like yours did, but my mother never wrote me letters either. She sent my aunt a couple letters. A few photos. I found them one Christmas. My mother just bailed on me and my dad, but every couple years she sent my aunt a letter or a photo about how much happier she was… not being my mom." Angela clears her throat and looks up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. "That fucks you up, Shawn."

"Angela." Shawn turns to her, hugs her. "I'm… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't know."

Angela hugs him back, just a brief squeeze before she pushes away. "I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to know."

Shawn almost asks why, and realizes he knows the answer. You don't tell someone you're dating how fundamentally unloveable you are.

"Did you tell Peter about your… family stuff?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Did he get super awkward? Pull away?"

"No," Shawn tells her, wiping his eyes on the heel of his hand again. "He held me."

Angela nods. "Shawn, people like us are…"

"Broken?"

"No," Angela sighs. "We're cautious. We just..." she gestures out into the room. "Cory and Topanga can go into everything blind. They can start dating at like… seven goddamn years old and believe they are going to be together forever. They can march off to separate colleges and believe that the distance won't change anything. You and I can't do that. You and I have to really fight for the feelings they can take for granted."

Shawn remembers Angela when she was just the purse girl. How terrifying it had been to start week three with her. "I loved you," Shawn tells her. "You knew that right?"

"I knew." Angela smiles at him and a tear runs down her face. "You know that I loved you too, right?"

"Yeah. I knew."

Shawn holds Angela's hand a little tighter. He is so fucking sick of being confused. This is the least confused he's felt in months. "Angela?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did we break up?"

Angela looks at him with a gentle smile, and soft, teary eyes. "Because we were leaving. Loving someone after they leave is the worst thing in the world."

Shawn nods. "Right. You're right." Shawn leans backward and lets himself fall onto the bed. Angela thumps down next to him. Their hands are still twined. "I came here, and I kissed you because you are safe, and familiar, and I got hurt so badly, and I needed some one familiar."

"And that's why Peter slept with Anthony after he made out with you? Anthony was familiar?"

"Yeah. I guess."

They lay there quietly. Shawn's not sure for how long.

"Angela? Will you take me back to campus?"

"Yeah. Of course."


	22. In Which Cory and Peter Talk

"So, you and Shawn are dating?"

Peter's so angry he's shaking.

How? How did this happen? How had he gone from falling for this hot, confused freshman to a screaming match with some fucking homophobe in an alley? This stage of his life was supposed to be over.

"I didn't say that," Peter responds. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He can barely hear anything else.

This is idiotic. Cory  _knows_. Peter knows Cory knows. Cory knows Peter is lying, but until Shawn tells Cory, Peter has no choice but to lie. No matter how weak the cover up, no matter what Cory says, Peter can't  _out_  Shawn.

Cory's brainy girlfriend just had to show up and pull Cory's head out of his ass just in time for Shawn to find out about Anthony. Just in time for Peter to hurt him, the way he'd been trying to avoid hurting him for months.

And the worst part of all of it, of having to play into Cory's weird gay panic, of knowing that Cory was right about Shawn's bad track record with taking off, was that none of this would be happening if Peter had just followed his one important rule.

You never go for the straight guy.

"But you've been saying this whole time that you think I spread "the gay" to Shawn like it's a disease he caught from me."

"Didn't he?"

Peter punches Cory in the face.

He doesn't even think about it. It's instantaneous, like pulling away from a hot stove. All the anger Peter's been carrying for months comes to a head, and he hits Cory before he can think. The only thought he has, as he shoves Cory into the brick wall behind him, is slight surprise that he didn't hit him harder.

When Cory kicks him square in the shin, Peter realizes that the other thought he should have had, is that Cory has an older brother. This isn't his first fight.

Peter curses and grabs his shin. As Peter doubles over, Cory throws his whole weight onto Peter, and they both hit the asphalt.

Cory throws his body on top of Peter's. Peter kicks and swings, adrenaline spiking. How the fuck is this even happening? His boyfriend's best friend is beating him up in an alley.

Except he… isn't.

Cory's not attacking him. He's not even trying to punch him back. They're… scrabbling. This is just like fighting with his brothers, it's about winning, not hurting each other. Peter grabs Cory by the collar and forces him onto the ground. Cory kicks again, but Peter anticipates it this time. He swings his leg up, trying to get on top of Cory, pin him down. This is exactly like fighting with his brothers. It's an instinct baked into him. He pins Cory, he wins.

Cory kicks again, and connects this time. Peter grunts out a curse and takes another swing at Cory. He pulls the punch, but misses, and somehow, Cory gets on top of him and pins Peter's arms down against his sides.

Peter pushes against him, too angry to even swear, too angry to make any sort of real plan about how to get away from him. Too angry to do anything but pointlessly push against Cory's hands.

"Oh, shit, you're bleeding."

It takes Peter a second to realize that Cory is talking to him.

"Jeez, that's a lot of blood."

Peter stops struggling, and gasps for breath when Cory lets go of him and starts digging through his pockets.

"What is happening?" Peter asks.

Cory produces a square cotton handkerchief from an inner pocket of his jacket with a cry of "Aha! Hankie!" and presses the cotton to Peter's head.

After more than an hour of sniping, arguing, and growling at each other, Peter is now looking up at Cory Matthews, who, with a look of terror and concern, is holding a clean, white, cotton handkerchief to Peter's bleeding head.

"You okay?" Cory asks.

"What is happening?" Peter asks again.

Cory gets off of him, sits cross legged on the ground next to Peter, and drops his head into his hands.

"I don't know."

Peter pulls the handkerchief off his head. It's a pretty decent amount of blood. He must have scraped his head against he asphalt when he was trying to pin Cory. He presses the hankie back against his head and sits up.

"Everything is shit," Cory huffs.

Cory looks pretty rough too. His collar is ripped. His eye is getting red where Peter punched him. Peter can see where the heel of Cory's hand is cut up, and he's got a fat lip. Peter must have landed a punch after all.

"I gotta agree with you there," Peter sighs.

Cory looks up. "Shawn has been my best friend my entire life. Topanga has been my girlfriend for almost as long. And then we went to college and everything went to hell." Cory notices the cut along his hand. Peter digs into his own jacket and produces a little pack of tissues. He hands them to Cory. Cory takes them.

"I worked to get into college my whole life. I thought it was going to be this… incredible experience, and it's ruining my life. "

Peter pressed the handkerchief tighter to his head. "So… what? You don't hate me, you hate college?"

"No, I hate you," Cory says, pressing the tissue against his lip. "I don't hate you for being gay, but I do hate you."

"Why? What did I do?" Peter asks.

Cory holds up his hand and sticks out a finger, indicating 'one'. "You took Shawn away from me."

"I didn't take Shawn away from-"

"Yeah- you did," Cory cuts him off. "You weren't just friends."

"Yes we-"

"No," Cory cuts him off again and Peter huffs. Clearly this isn't a discussion, this is a monologue. "You wanted more than that from him. So you monopolized all his time, and you were the one around him when he turned into College Shawn. And now College Shawn is a guy I don't know. He loves poetry and coffee shops with weird menus, and beautiful libraries. He spends Thanksgiving with other people's families." Cory pressed the tissue into his lip and hissed. " _He's gay_. And he thinks I've turned into someone that he has to hide from."

"We invited you to stuff. Dinner, basketball. You shot us down."

"I can't fucking believe I'm bloodied up in an alleyway telling you this, when I haven't told Shawn yet," Cory rolled his eyes. "I'm flunking out. The absolute best I can do right now is academic probation. I don't sit in the room to avoid you two, or keep you from getting up to… shenanigans. I'm trying not to fail my classes."

"I never said that Shawn and I were dating. No one is saying that Shawn and I are dating. No one is saying Shawn is gay. Shawn is not gay."

Cory rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, but is interrupted by his phone ringing.

"Shawn?" Peter asks.

"Topanga," Cory answers, bringing his phone up to his ear. "Hey, what's going on?"

Peter can hear Topanga's voice on the other side of the phone, but none of the words. Cory nods, sighs, and finally says. "Jesus. We should have figured that out. Angela's hotel room."

A chill goes through Peter.

Hotel Room.

Angela.

His boyfriend ran off devastated and angry, and went to a hotel room with his ex girlfriend.

"Is he okay?" Cory asks. Nods again, wipes his forehead, leaves a streak of blood behind. "Yeah. Yeah. We'll be there soon." Cory squeezes his eyes shut as Topanga keeps talking. "Yeah. I want to continue our discussion too. See you soon. Love you."

"Is Shawn okay?" Peter asks, as Cory slides his phone back into his jacket.

Cory shrugs. "According to Topanga, who heard it from Angela, he's in one piece, he's sober, and he's embarrassed and annoyed that we all freaked out."

Peter gets to his feet and holds his hand out to Cory. Cory takes it, and Peter pulls him up to his feet.

The sinking feeling in Peter's gut doesn't go away as he and Cory walk to Cory's car, and it only gets worse when Peter realizes that if he and Cory had ever gotten friendly, Peter would be able to ask Cory what he thinks Shawn and Angela did in that hotel room, and Cory would probably know the answer.

* * *

 

Cory's stomach is twisting as he and Peter drive back to school. He's not sure how everything got so out of hand today. Fighting with Topanga. Hunting down Shawn.

Antagonizing Peter, and then making him bleed.

Watching Peter in the passenger seat, Cory thinks about all the things he's said to Peter and Shawn this semester. Peter…trailing after Shawn… that was creepy, but if they'd been secretly dating this whole time… Maybe Peter was a better guy than Cory thought he was. Earlier, when Cory had thrown Peter into a car Peter had refused to hit him, because it would upset Shawn. And Cory knew that when Peter had finally hit him, he'd more than deserved it.

"You should get some ice on that when we get back," Peter said, finally breaking the silence. "You're going to have a hell of a shiner."

"Maybe that'll get me some sympathy points with Topanga," Cory said. "You know," he started, then stopped. He'd told Peter enough for today, hadn't he? But he'd been so isolated lately, he could feel the words pouring out of him before he could stop them. "I miss when things were just simple. In high school, everything made sense. Best friend. Girlfriend. Parents. School. I just… I don't understand where that went."

"Cory? High school is bullshit."

"Sure, and paying sixteen grand a semester to live in room full of furniture they assign you, eat every meal off a buffet, and never put on real pants is the realest way of living."

"It's artificial too, I'll give you that, but high school?" Peter scoffed. " _Fuck high school_. You spend eight hours a day with people you've known since before you had find motor skills. And you have one box you can fit into based on the expectations of all those people. So if you… met a girl on the monkey bars when you were six, or you blew up a mailbox with a cherry bomb when you were eleven, then that's your whole identity."

"Topanga changed, she used to be this little hippie girl who covered her face in lipstick and channeled ancient Egyptian witches for help with her math homework."

"And after she stopped doing that? Was she the most popular girl in school? Was she the star of the basketball team? What was she other than your girlfriend?"

Cory opens his mouth to argue, but can't think of anything to say.

"High school is all about the choices other people make for you," Peter went on. "Your curfew, your clothes, where you go, what you do. College is not the real world either, but you come here and suddenly all of your familiar old crap is gone. The teachers, the people you've known your whole life, the town you've known your whole life. Gone. You can sleep until noon every day, you can get shit faced drunk every weekend, you can fuck a new person every night. Nothing's in the way anymore. And everything is different and you have to deal. And when college ends and we do all get fed into the meat grinder of the real world, we'll have to deal with that too. And guess what, Matthews- that high school moron you want to be? The real world is going to slaughter that douchebag if you don't nut up and deal with the college shit."

"Good. Great. That makes me feel a hell of a lot better," Cory huffs.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better," Peter tells him as Cory parks.

* * *

 

"Jesus, Topanga. What did you guys think I was going to do? Swan dive off a bridge?" Shawn demands, storming up the stairs, with Angela and Topanga trailing behind him.

"Shawn, things have been tough lately. Jeremy told us that you and Peter had a rough morning. You ran off and we were worried about you. And you know what? You have done a lot of things in the last couple years that made us think we should worry about you."

"She's not wrong," Angela chimes in.

Shawn fishes his keys out of his pocket, opens the door to his and Cory's room and ushers both girls in.

"We just care about you," Topanga tells him. She sits on Cory's bed, perched at the very, very edge of it like she doesn't want to be touching it.

"And college is a tough transition," Angela adds, sitting much more comfortably at the edge of Shawn's bed.

Shawn tosses his keys next to Angela. His suitcase is back, sitting next to his bed, right in front of his nightstand. Peter or Jeremy must have brought it back. Shawn gives a little sigh of relief. He's been staying in Peter's room for nearly a week, practically none of the things he needs are in his own room anymore.

He grabs the suitcase, sets it on the bed and starts to unpack.

"Yeah," He says. "College  _is_ a tough transition. And I'm handling it really well." He starts tossing his dirty clothes into his empty hamper. "My clothes are clean. I've been going to the gym. Do you know what my GPA is right now?"

Shawn looks at Angela who rolls her eyes at him, then at Topanga.

"No. What is it?"

"Three point two, Topanga. My GPA is three point two."

Topanga gives him one of those looks. Like she feels bad that she's been proven wrong. "That's fantastic, Shawn."

"My math requirement is the only thing bringing that down. I think I can bring it up next semester. I'm excited about the classes I picked out. I go to parties, where I drink Coke. I've made friends.  _I'm okay_ , you guys."

"You weren't doing so hot earlier this afternoon," Angela points out.

Shawn looks at her. "No. But I can have a bad day, can't I?"

The answer to his question is the sound of a key sliding into and back out of the lock, but that doesn't give Shawn enough time to brace himself for what he sees when the door opens.

Peter and Cory walk in, bloody and bruised with their clothes torn.

Shawn's mouth drops open as he takes the two of them in. There's blood dripping down the side of Peter's face. His chin is scraped.

Shawn sees Cory's fat lip, his blackening eye. He knows that they fought each other. Punches were exchanged. Pretty equally, by the look of it.

But the anger bubbling up inside him doesn't take that into account. The anger inside him wants to know one thing.

And it asks, out loud in front of the whole room.

"Did you beat up my boyfriend?"


	23. In Which it Finally Happens

"Did you beat up my boyfriend?"

And there it is. Confirmation.

Unsure of how to react, Cory shoots a glance at Topanga. She's sitting at the edge of his bed, and he can tell there's something locked up about her. She won't meet his eye. She's not going to help him out of this.

He glances at Angela next. She's looking at Shawn, brow furrowed.

Cory braces himself, and looks at Shawn. Shawn… looks like Shawn. Angry, wearing jeans that are too tight and a Henley with too many buttons undone, but like Shawn.

He doesn't seem to realize what he just said.

The room is quiet for a moment, everyone seems to be waiting for Shawn to do something, say something to make it clear that he knows that he just called Peter his boyfriend in front of all of them. He doesn't. He just glares, moving his eyes back and forth between Cory and Peter.

"It was just a boiling point," Peter finally answers.

"A boiling point?" Shawn demands.

"Yeah. A boiling point." Peter shrugs.

"I provoked him," Cory says.

"Yeah. You did." Peter takes a couple steps toward Shawn, then looks down at the carpet and takes a step back. "It was just a scrap. It's not a big deal. I think we're… good now."

"Yeah," Cory replies, still watching Shawn. "Yes. We are. We're good now."

Shawn glances up at the ceiling and sits on his bed. "That's what it took for the two of you to finally get along? Throwing a few punches? What happened to your head, Peter?"

"I uh… kicked him and threw him onto the asphalt," Cory said.

"Goddamn it, Cory."

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Peter says. "Besides, I split his lip. It was totally equivalent idiocy."

"Yeah. We might even get along after this," Cory said. Then decided to go for it. "And I'm sure everyone's lives would be easier if I could be friends with your boyfriend."

Shawn freezes and slowly, slowly looks at Cory. Cory holds his gaze. Shrugs his shoulders.

"Umm… yeah," Shawn agrees quietly.

"I think I should…give you guys some space," Peter says. He turns to the door.

"Peter?" Shawn's voice is only a little louder.

Peter turns, one hand on the doorknob.

"I…ummm… about earlier…" Shawn manages.

"Yeah, I know. Call me when you're ready."

Topanga stands up as Peter leaves. "I'm going to go too." She points a finger at Cory. "Call  _me_  when  _you're_ ready."

Angela follows her out and Cory is alone with Shawn, with everything  _finally_  out on the table.

"I… I wanted some time to figure things out," Shawn said. "And then I didn't know how to tell you."

Cory's been so angry about this for so long. He's felt excluded. He's felt attacked. He's been hurting and isolated and felt like all that emotion was bottling up and ready to blow up.

But not at Shawn. He can't yell at Shawn when he looks this tired. Cory drops down on his own bed, leaning back against his pillows.

"What did you guys fight about?"

Shawn shakes his head. "You don't want to hear about it."

Cory sighs. "Shawn. I know everything's been rough lately. But I'm your best friend. I… There's nothing you can do that can make me not want to stay your best friend, or make me not care about you."

Shawn nods. "I know that."

"Okay. Good. So… what did you fight about with… you know… him."

"Peter," Shawn corrects.

"Right. Peter. Your boyfriend, Peter. Peter, your boyfriend. Which I am… fine with."

"You really want to know what we fought about?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

"Okay. Fine." Shawn gets up, grabs the suitcase next to his bed and starts to unpack. "I spent Thanksgiving with his family."

"And his family knows that you two are…" Cory starts.

Shawn stops unpacking, throwing the shirt he was holding down into his suitcase in with a huff. "Cory, it's hard to talk to you about this when you keep treating it like it's so weird."

"Okay." Cory knots his hands together on his lap. "I'm sorry. I'll just… listen."

Shawn goes over to his dresser and yanks a drawer open. The wood creaks and groans. Shawn goes back to his suitcase and starts folding again. "He brought me home to meet his family as his… boyfriend. And they loved me. His parents got me a gift. His mom packed up left overs for me. His grandmother thought I was cute. It was… I have gone to your family's holiday so many times, and your parents always welcome me, but this was…. different. This was  _special_. So we came home, and I felt… good. And I…"

Shawn stops and folds two more shirts, a pair of pants and pulls out a bundle of socks, moving them into the dresser before he finally starts talking again.

"I wanted to… move things to the next level. And when I told him that, he responded that he wouldn't feel right about it unless he got something off his chest. And he told me that right after the first time we…"

Cory wonders what his face looks like. It doesn't feel supportive. He's not sure if he can ask what "next level means" and isn't totally sure how much detail he can deal with involving "the first time we". Thankfully Shawn isn't looking at him. He's finished unpacking and now he's dumping his hamper out onto his bed. Cory forces his face into what he's pretty sure is a supportive expression.

"A couple months ago, after I found out that Angela had a boyfriend, Peter and I were hanging out in the room, and he… we kind of started making out. And it was…"

"A surprise?" Cory tried.

Shawn laughed as he started separating his laundry. "Yeah. That too. It was… whatever, it doesn't matter. Anyway. I didn't see him for a couple days, and then… we started dating. And I've… I've never been in a relationship like this, Cory. I've never felt loved like this before. I've never felt safe like this before."

Cory's cheeks are starting to cramp, but they've finally hit something he can understand. He may still not like Peter, but he can understand, now, what makes Peter so important to Shawn.

Cory lets his face unclench.

"Okay, so what did you fight about?"

"The couple days when he was just… gone… he was fucking his ex."

Cory feels his face draw back into his supportive grimace.

"So… that freaked me out, I needed some space, I took off."

Shawn threw the last of his darks onto the pile. "And I have to go up there, and tell him why I'm so hurt. And… because I'm a complete, fucking moron, I have to tell him that I kissed Angela."

"Wait, you kissed Angela?" Cory asked.

Shawn clenched his eyes shut. "If you start in on Angela right now, Cory Matthews I swear to god-"

"No, I'm not… I'm just surprised." Cory shuffled to the end of his bed and swung his feet over the edge. "I've seen you date a lot of… people, Shawn. And I mean… even with Angela you didn't talk about her like this."

"I really, really love him, Cory."

"I'm getting that." Cory said.

There are so many other things he wants to say. It's such a relief to finally be talking to Shawn. More than anything, Cory wants to sit here, and tell Shawn that he's dangerously close to flunking out, he's fighting with Topanga and he's  _terrified_  of this talk that Topanga wants to have tonight.

But it's not time for that yet. He has other best friend duties right now.

"You should go talk to him," Cory says. "Make up. Maybe you and me and Peter and Topanga can all make it out for a double date before she goes back to Yale."

Shawn makes a face. "You're not ready for that."

Cory sighs. "No. I'm not. But I'll work on it. I promise."

"Yeah. Okay. I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Let me know how it goes."

* * *

 

It does not go as well as Shawn hoped.

He tells Peter about talking to Angela about why it's hard for people like them to feel safe in relationships. He tells Peter about why Anthony showing up at exactly that second was so devastating.

And Peter holds Shawn's hand and nods and kisses Shawn's face and says that he understands, and understands and understands.

Shawn even tells him what he wants their first time to be like. How he wants Peter to touch him. That he thinks about what it would feel like to have Peter inside him.

And then he tells Peter about kissing Angela.

It's not like Shawn expected Peter to tell him that it was okay. He knew they were going to fight about it.

It's a weird fight. Peter refuses to fight with Shawn over kissing Angela on an empty stomach, because he doesn't want to say anything he can't take back. He makes Shawn wait while he heats up thanksgiving leftovers for them both. They eat in silence. Peter yells. Shawn cries. Peter cries.

And somehow they end up in bed. Arms around each other. Red eyes. Runny noses. A weird cried out tired.

Shawn wriggles against Peter, trying to get more comfortable. They haven't turned on the heat in the dorms yet, and it's gotten colder out in the few days they've been gone.

Peter pulls a blanket over them both. Shawn presses a kiss to Peter's lips and Peter kisses him back, and he's not surprised. It's slow and steady and warm. Soon it's too warm and they're pulling each other out of their clothes. Panting and gasping and telling each other "I love you."

And then they're naked, and hard.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, Shawn?"

"I want you."

"I'm all yours."

"No, I  _want_  you. I want you now."

Peter pulls away. Shawn feels a little wriggle of fear run through him.

"Wait… like… want me, want me?"

"Yes," Shawn pants. "Yes, please."

"Now?"

Shawn rolls his eyes, spits in his palm, and grab's Peter's cock. "What part of this is not getting through to you?"

Peter's eyes flutter shut. "I wanted to make it perfect for you."

"I don't want it to be perfect, I just want you."

Peter's eyes stay shut, but Shawn is doing the thing with his palm that Peter likes and he can tell Peter's resolve is melting away. Peter drops a quick kiss to Shawn's forehead, leans forward, pulls his nightstand open and grabs a tube.

"What's that?" Shawn asks.

Peter laughs. "It's lube, sweetheart. It's pretty critical to the whole process."

"Right. Right."

Peter flicks the cap open with his thumb, squirts the contents onto his fingers and kisses Shawn again. "How do you want to do this?"

"I want to be on my back," Shawn answers.

"Okay," Peter said.

Shawn feels Peter's slick finger slide through his cheeks and gasps.

"You still sure about this?" Peter asks, sliding his finger back and forth. Shawn's amazed at how sensitive that part of his body is. He's never really thought about it before.

"Yes," Shawn says, arranging the pillows behind his head. "Go slow."

"Of course. Shawn, listen to me."

"What?"

Peter hovered over him, "If you ask me to stop I will stop."

"I know that."

"Good." Peter drops a passionate kiss to Shawn's lips, then starts kissing down his body. "And it's not supposed to hurt," Peter finishes, as he finally pushes inward.

Shawn closes his eyes, and lets Peter lead the way. Peter's fingers are strange inside him. He's been thinking about this for weeks, even before Peter tried to touch him in the car and he didn't think it would feel like this.

It takes him time to get used to it, but Peter is slow and patient, working well-lubed fingers into Shawn's body, teasing Shawn's cock with his mouth. By the time Peter has three fingers inside him Shawn is sweating and shaking and harder than he's ever been in his life.

"Please, Peter, please, please," Shawn moans.

Peter pulls his fingers away, and starts fumbling with the nightstand drawer again. Shawn watches him tear the condom wrapper open. Watches Peter's face wrinkle in concentration as he rolls it on and adds more lube. The light's been fading since they started, but Shawn can still make out Peter's expression in the dimness.

He feels ready, and happy, and so much less nervous than he'd thought he would be.

"Here," Peter whispers as he slides his hands under Shawn's knees and arranges his legs. "It'll be easier this way."

"Okay," Shawn says. He pulls Peters face down to his own, kissing his boyfriend while Peter moves his hands down between their bodies, makes sure everything is in alignment, and pushes forward.

Shawn feels himself giving in to it. He's loose, with his legs up and his eyes closed, breathing through the heavy, blunt push of Peter's cock moving inside him. The only sound in the room is an aroused rumble from Peter as he slowly pushes as deeply into Shawn as he can.

And then it's happening. Little licks of pleasure are sparking through Shawn's body in a way he's never felt before. He can't quite tell where it's coming from, but he likes it, and the longer Peter is steadily thrusting side him the better it gets. He's moaning into Peter's mouth as Peter tries to kiss him, and even though he's starting to get sore, he doesn't want it to stop. He wants to lie here like this, moving with Peter like this, for as long as he possibly can.

Eventually, Peter grabs Shawn's cock, and the double stimulus pushes him over the edge in no time. He comes all over himself, and all over Peter. He can see the way the street light coming in through the window catches in the patches of it all over their bodies as Peter keeps thrusting into him, a little faster than he was before Shawn came. Shawn listens to the way Peter howls and he comes inside Shawn's body, and feels the tremors that run through Peter as he collapses down against Shawn, gasping for breath.

He starts to pull out but Shawn stops him.

"Wait, not yet. I want to stay like this for a second."

They do. Shawn slides his hands over Peter's sweat slicked back with Peter still inside him while Peter catches his breath. Shawn feels like he might cry again. He feels almost cleansed. All the fear and anger and confusion that's been coursing through him is gone. He feels loved and satisfied.

"Was that what you wanted?" Peter finally asks.

"Yes," Shawn replies.

Peter pulls out, deals with the condom, mops Shawn up with a few Kleenexes from the box by the bed, and finally, pulls the covers up over both of them again, and spoons Shawn.

They talk, a little bit about the sex and how they feel. A little bit about Shawn's talk with Cory, but mostly about nothing, until Peter finally asks Shawn if he's staying the night.

"Actually, is it okay with you if I don't?" Shawn asked. "I… I think it's important for me to stay in me and Cory's room tonight."

"Yeah. I see that."

"But I'll come over after my last class tomorrow?" Shawn asks

Peter squeezes him. "Yeah. That'd be great."

"Maybe we can have sex again," Shawn suggests with a laugh.

Peter echoes his laugh and presses a kiss to the back of Shawn's neck. "Oh yeah. I've got a million different ways I want to fuck you, and no time to waste."

Shawn snorts and pulls himself out of Peter's arms. He picks his clothes up off the floor, gets dressed, kisses Peter a few more times and goes back down to his and Cory's room.

He's surprised when he opens the door and sees his nightstand clock. It's just past nine, when he could have sworn it was one or two.

Cory is sitting on his bed, head back against the pillows. No music. No TV. Just staring at the ceiling.

"Cory?"

"Yeah?

"Are you… alright?"

"Alright," Cory replies tonelessly.

"Yeah, man. Are you okay? How long have you been lying here like this?"

Cory doesn't move. Doesn't stop staring at the ceiling. Doesn't notice Shawn's rumpled clothes or ridiculous hair.

"What time is it now?" Cory asks.

"A little past nine."

Cory folds his hands over his chest, like a corpse.

"Then I've been lying here since Topanga dumped me."


	24. In Which the Semester Ends

"Exhale to plank, inhale upward facing dog, exhale… downward facing dog."

Cory pushes his body backward, butt up in the air, heels down to the floor. It's easy now. His breathing is steady and strong. His thighs aren't screaming like they did during his first class. He hasn't toppled over since his third class.

He's been going to the free yoga class in the Pennbrooke ballroom for the last three weeks. Ever since Thanksgiving. Topanga had said he needed to step outside his box. Try things. So he is. This is his new thing. Three times a week, here he is. He even bought his own mat. Shawn bought him a water bottle.

"Very nice form, Mr. Matthews."

It's still weird that Feeny is the instructor.

But Cory likes the class. He feels calmer. It helps him break up his day, schedule his study time better. He hasn't quite made new friends yet, but there are a few people that he sees on campus that he nods to now. Stands next to while waiting in lines for things like lunch or coffee.

Cory had felt weird about telling Shawn about his little group of non-friends. Proto-friends. Pre-friends. It wasn't really an accomplishment. He'd barely moved forward, and it felt a little bit like he was challenging Shawn in the lamest way possible.  _You're not the only one who can make new friends._

But that wasn't how he'd meant it, and that wasn't how Shawn took it. Shawn was amused, supportive, and happy for him.

"Lift your left leg high, bring it between your hands, we'll go into warrior two. Straighten your spine a bit, Mr. Hunter."

Shawn only comes to yoga on Wednesdays. He has a class during yoga on Friday and he and Peter use Cory's absence to take advantage of the empty dorm room on Mondays.

Cory can't believe what a relief it is to have things be good with Shawn again. Shawn spends more time in the room. They get lunch together every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Peter tags along every Wednesday and most Fridays.

Cory and Peter aren't really friends. He's more than someone to wait in line with, but he's not someone Cory can be alone with. Cory can hang out with Peter and Shawn without it being weird, but there is always a strange, uncomfortable pause when Shawn leaves the room to go to the bathroom, or leaves the table to get dessert, and Cory and Peter are left alone.

At least they don't hate each other anymore.

It is still weird when Cory comes home and finds Shawn and Peter curled up in Shawn's bed, watching a movie or taking a nap. Or when Shawn kisses Peter goodnight before Peter leaves.

Or on Mondays, when Cory goes home to drop his yoga stuff off on his bed and Shawn and Peter have forgotten to hang a rubber band from the door knob. He's walked in on them twice. The image of Shawn in that position is probably always going to be weird.

But more and more, it's not that it's weird to see Shawn kissing, and cuddling and loving and being loved by this guy, it's weird that Shawn is centered, and happy, and calm… and Cory isn't.

Even as his relationship with his best friend goes back to normal, and his grades improve, and he finds himself enjoying trying the occasional new thing, there is one thing keeping Cory going.

Tomorrow, he can call Topanga.

Peter was the one who kept pointing out that Topanga hadn't really dumped Cory. He called it a "trial separation."

To Cory, that sounds like Topanga is practicing to leave him. Eventually, he conceded that what he and Topanga were doing, was exploring "a temporary term of 'dating lite'."

She'd told him not to call until his semester was over. No texts, no emails, no letters, no smoke signals, no marching bands, no sky writing.

No contact at all.

"Alright, everyone lay back on your mats. As we come to the end of our practice today, leave behind the things you don't want to bring out of the room. Your anxiety over finals, maybe. Disappointment in grades. Worry over next semester. Let it go as we move into corpse pose."

No dating other people, though. Topanga promised that wasn't part it of.

She wasn't interested in or pursuing anyone at Yale. She was not giving Cory permission to date other people at Pennbrooke (Not that Cory was stupid enough to fall for that trap again. He'd learned his lesson from the Lauren debacle.)

Topanga just wanted him to prove that he could function without her.

"Bring your left knee to your chest, pull it over your body, and turn your head in the opposite direction, take a gentle twist here."

Cory turned his head, letting his knee fall and his body twist. He wasn't really into the hokey stuff about how twists were healing and certain postures were good for anxiety or concentration or whatever, but he did like this part of class. He was sweaty and quiet, looking at the back of Shawn's head as they both breathed steadily.

He'd told her that he couldn't. That she was his world. His life had gone to shit without her. She'd fixed the biggest disaster in his life in a day.

She hadn't budged. She'd cried, her voice had shook, but she didn't give in.

Shawn had convinced Cory that his only chance to keep her was to respect her wishes, and Cory had settled in for three weeks of tortuous anguish.

"Bring your left knee up, extend your left leg as you bring your right leg to your chest, and take another twist."

And it hadn't been that bad.

He's been hanging out with Shawn. Trying to get a long with Peter and Jeremy. He learned that Feeny had come back from Jackson Hole, and begged Feeny to tutor him.

He'd registered for his classes. At the last minute Shawn had convinced him to drop the composition class that Topanga suggested and take Intro to Gender and Sexuality with him instead.

Missing Topanga was like a rock in his stomach. He thought about her every day. He worried that she was going to pick up the phone tomorrow and tell him that it was over.

But it didn't consume him like it used too.

"When you're ready, come up to sitting. We'll take a few breaths here. Thank you for coming to class today. For those of you who still have finals today, I wish you luck and I hope all of you have an enjoyable winter break, and find time to spend with people who are important to you."

Class broke up. People quietly stood, rolled up their mats. Most people headed for the door, Cory and Shawn went for the stairs, and the locker rooms.

"Nervous for your final today?" Shawn asks as they pull open their lockers. Shawn starts to unselfconsciously strip, tossing his sweaty clothes into his gym bag. Cory goes over to the shelves full of rough white towels and grabs one.

"Less nervous than I was. Feeny tells me I should be pretty confident about my two final papers, and they're both weighted so heavily that I can pass the class as long as I get a B plus or better. He got Professor Connors to switch me to pass fail, so at least his class won't destroy my GPA. But… I need to fucking ace this final to have a hope of getting a D in the class… so yeah. Still pretty nervous."

Cory pulls his sweaty shirt off, then his work out shorts. He wraps the towel around his waist and pulls his boxers out from under it.

Shawn gives him a bemused look, and goes into the open shower. Cory ducks into the one private shower as quickly as he can and starts scrubbing down fast. He doesn't like to linger.

"So… it's cool that I stay with your family for Christmas, right?"

"Yeah, you always spend Christmas with us," Cory calls back. Shawn hasn't asked him if his parents know about Peter. Cory's pretty sure Shawn just assumed that Cory couldn't keep a secret. He's right, of course. Cory told his parents the week after Thanksgiving. They seemed pretty uncomfortable, but Cory's sure that it'll be fine as long as Peter isn't there. Shawn hasn't changed. His parents will get used to this new Shawn thing. Cory has.

"You're sure you don't want to go Peter's for Christmas?"

"Yeah," Shawn calls back. "I mean… this is the best relationship I've ever been in, but it's still only been a few months. Christmas is a pretty serious thing. I don't think we're there yet. But he's going to stay at Pennbrooke for a couple extra days before and after Christmas, so we can have some time together before the basketball season goes totally crazy. I'm excited."

"Good," Cory tells him, rinsing himself off. He grabs his towel from outside the shower and pats himself dry before wrapping his towel around his waist. "What are you guys up to tonight?"

"Dinner. Movie. Back to the dorms to hang out." Shawn says. He's still standing in the open shower, eyes closed, washing shampoo out of his hair. Cory rolls his eyes and heads back to the lockers to get dressed. It only takes a couple minutes for Shawn to join him.

"Are you going to call Topanga tonight?" Shawn asks.

Cory scoffs. "Hell with that. I'm calling her on my way out of that final. Put down pencil, pick up cell. It's been three weeks."

"Right," Shawn nods. "Well. If…"

"If what?" Cory demands.

Shawn bites his lip and shrugs. "If it doesn't go well, text me. I'll come back."

"Don't worry about it, Shawn," Cory tells him. "Go out with your boyfriend. I'll be fine."

Cory sits on one of the grody plastic benches and ties his shoes as Shawn dries off and gets dressed.

It'll be fine. Cory knows that. Realistically, three weeks is not that long. Taken as a percentage of the total time he and Topanga have been together, three weeks is nothing. It has to be okay.

Besides, Topanga wouldn't make him hang for three weeks, just to dump him. That would just be cruel.

Cory finishes tying his shoes and waits for Shawn to finish dressing.

"But uhh… if by some crazy twist of fate, it doesn't go well… don't kick me out of the room, okay?"

Shawn pats him on the back. "Sure thing, man."

* * *

"Peter," Shawn gasps, knotting his fingers into the back of Peter's tee shirt as Peter presses his body down against him. "I don't think we should."

Peter groans, but pulls away. "Why not?"

Shawn catches his breath, shifting a little on the mattress. He's not totally hard yet, but if Peter touches him he's going to totally lose his resolve.

"Because I don't want Cory to come back from talking to Topanga and find a rubber band on the door."

Peter runs his hand through Shawn's hair. "You are a sweet sensitive guy and a good friend." He kisses Shawn's his neck, and rolls his weight back onto Shawn's body. "Matthews will get over it."

Shawn groans and rolls his hips up into Peter's, feeling Peter's hard cock against him. They've had sex at every available opportunity for the last three weeks, and it isn't nearly enough. It would be so easy to tug Peter's shirt out of his jeans, press his hands to Peter's warm, bare skin, kiss him, undress him. Spread his legs and let Peter thrust into him and not even bother with the fucking rubber band on the door.

"What about your room?" Shawn asks breathlessly.

"Jeremy has a final in the morning and wants to study at his own desk. We can't pretend we don't owe him," Peter kisses Shawn's neck again and starts toying with the button at the top of his fly.

Shawn thinks about stopping Peter. He really does. Thinking about Cory walking up to the door and hearing the two of them going at it is almost enough to make him set his hand on top of Peter's and push it away from his zipper. If "I don't think we should" changes to "I don't want to" Shawn knows that Peter will stop.

And then they'll stop touching each other. Maybe go get some coffee instead.

Run into Cory in the midst of melt down and possibly not get to have sex before Peter leaves for home.

Shawn yanks Peter's shirt out of his jeans and shoves his hand into Peter's boxers, cupping his boyfriend's ass and pulling Peter's body tighter to his own.

"Yeah. He'll get over it," Shawn agrees.

They pull away long enough to yank their shirts over their heads and toss them away, then fall on each other again.

"Do you want to top me this time?" Peter whispers, kissing Shawn's face.

Shawn shivers and shakes his head. "No. I'm not ready yet. But ask me again sometime."

He's not sure why he can't quite wrap his head around taking charge in bed with Peter. But he's also not worried about it. This is how they do it right now. They have plenty of time ahead of them to explore each other.

It's good. It's always good. Peter kisses Shawn while he moves inside him. Shawn totally gives himself over the gasping and moaning, and the embarrassing little noises that pop out of him when Peter pushes in  _just like that_  or touches him  _right there._

They both come. Shawn wraps his legs around Peter as Peter jerks and twitches and cries out, and holds him inside while they both catch their breath. Peter digs his arms under Shawn's back and squeezes him tight before he pulls out, deals with the condom, and pulls the sheet up over both of them.

Shawn rests his head on Peter's shoulder and sighs happily. Peter wraps an arm around him, and plays with his hair for a long stretch of comfortable silence.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Peter asks quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You know you can ask me for things, right?"

"What?"

"Like if you want to try something in bed, you can ask me."

Shawn feels a strange tingle in his spine. "Are you bored?"

It's weird to ask, but it's not scary or uncomfortable.

Peter chuckles and squeezes Shawn closer. "No. Of course not. I can't get enough of you." He kisses Shawn's forehead. "I just want to make sure you don't have any… I don't know… preconceived notions about what we can do together. And you're… kind of quiet."

"I'm not quiet," Shawn snorts.

Peter laughs. "Yeah, okay… reserved. You kind of let me do whatever to you, and I worry that you… aren't asking me for what you want, you're just letting me do what I want."

"Oh." Shawn's not sure what else to say. His brain is still pretty orgasm foggy and he's having trouble figuring out how important this is, because Peter is talking in his soft bedroom voice.

"And that's okay, if that's what you want, but just, if you want something, ask me. I might not do it, but you can ask."

"Okay," Shawn says. "Me too. You can ask me too."

"Okay. Awesome."

The door opens as Peter leans in to kiss Shawn and they pull apart quickly to see Cory standing in the doorway, face held in a rictus of crazed supportiveness.

"Hey… fellas. There was no rubber band."

Shawn clears his throat and makes a little bit of space between his body and Peter's.

"Yeah… ummm… we… didn't get to it."

"Sorry, man," Peter chimes in.

"No it's… you know. Whatever. I just… I guess I'll grab my computer and let you two…"

As he babbles, Shawn realizes that Cory's eyes are red rimmed. He's not just flustered, he's upset.

"It's fine. We're… um, done." Shawn cringes at his choice of words and pats Peter's thigh apologetically. "Is everything okay? Did you talk to Topanga?"

"Yeah, I called her. We talked."

Shawn shoots Peter a look. Peter nods.

"Here, give us a second to get dressed and let's go get some coffee," Shawn suggests.

"Yeah. Okay."

Cory steps out. Peter and Shawn do their best to clean up with a handful of Kleenexes before pulling their clothes back on and meeting Cory outside the door.

Cory vents while the three of them trudge to the student union.

"I just… I never know what she wants from me!" Cory hisses as he drops into a chair opposite Shawn and Peter goes up to the counter to order everyone's drinks. "She wanted me to try new things, I did. She wanted me to take charge with my classes, I did. She wanted me to make new friends… it's only been three weeks!"

"You and Peter are on better terms. Jeremy too. Beth likes you," Shawn points out.

"I know. I brought that up!"

Peter comes back with three mugs. He gives Shawn his usual chai, Cory his usual vanilla latte, and keeps his amaretto cappuccino.

"So… dude, I have to ask… what was the point of this conversation?"

"What?" Cory asks, coming up from his mug with a foam mustache.

"She told you to leave her alone for three weeks, and that you could call when all of your finals were over. Why?"

"I don't understand what you're asking, babe." Shawn shook his head.

"I mean… what did she want to hear? That you really couldn't live without talking to her and the last three weeks were the most miserable of your entire life? That you are just fine without her and she didn't have to worry about you? That you could follow her directions? I don't know the girl at all. You've known her forever. What did she want?"

Cory shakes his head. "I don't know." He takes another sip from his cup, making the mustache worse. "I… should know. Right? Shawn?"

"I…"

Shawn has a rotten feeling in his gut. He's been wondering about this weird three week hiatus ever since Cory told him about it. He knows that Topanga doesn't want to hurt Cory. He knows there isn't another guy. He hasn't spoken to Topanga since she left for Yale. He knows that Cory has been driving everyone nuts, and that everyone wants him to be able to prove that he can take care of himself… but something's wrong.

"It sounds like a test to me, man," Peter chimes in. "Again, I don't know her, but she… gave you an assignment. That's… to me that isn't right. That's not how you treat someone you love. If you want to help them change for the better… you help them. You don't give them a reading and a due date."

"It did help me though," Cory argues. "I've… made progress these last few weeks."

"Yeah," Shawn concedes. "But… Topanga didn't help you with that. Taking a step back from a long distance relationship did."

Cory nods. Drinks his latte. Sets it down. Picks it back up. Drinks again.

"You know what? I think I need to just… take a step back from this whole topic right now. Let's just… talk about something else. Christmas plans. What are you guys up to for the next week, huh?"

Shawn bites his lip. This isn't like Cory. Cory doesn't take a step back or let things go. Cory obsesses over them until he drives everyone out of their mind.

But Peter doesn't know that. So when Cory wants to change the subject, Peter goes with it. He goes into his family's entire holiday plan, and his and Shawn's plans for before and after the holiday. He brags about how he thinks he got a Shawn a really good gift, and teases Shawn about whether he'll get it before Christmas or have to wait.

Cory laughs and nods along and let's the whole Topanga issue pass.

Eventually, they all start to yawn. Peter kisses Shawn goodnight and goes back to his dorm. Shawn and Cory walk back to their room.

And Shawn almost manages to let it go. He almost lets Cory keep pretending that he's able to just turn this worry off. But as the two of them get into their pajamas, he can't stop himself from asking.

"Cor? Is Topanga coming for Christmas?"

"Oh… um. No. She's going to New York City with her roommate. She's never been and she's excited to go see it."

"Yeah. Okay. I was just curious. Night, Cor."

"Night, Shawn."

 


	25. In Which the Semester Starts

"That was an awesome class, Feeny!" Shawn declares, trotting down the few steps and crossing the expanse of cheap linoleum that divide his text and the Professor's podium.

"Glad to hear it Mr. Hunter," Feeny replied. "Because to be frank with you I was terrified to see that you and Mr. Matthews would be joining this class."

Shawn grins. He can tell by Feeny's face that the man is only about 30% serious.

"Terrified?" Shawn scoffed. "Of little old us jumping into your Gender and Sexuality Class? Why?"

"Because I remember teaching you what passes for Sex Ed in the public school system. It was… a horror."

Shawn laughs as the classroom clears out and heads back to his desk for his back and books. "Well, put it to you this way Feeny, I've done a lot of independent study on this subject. Couple of, you know. Practicums. I'm very interested to learn more on the theory side." Shawn grins at Feeny, who rolls his eyes and looks disapproving, but Shawn can see that the corner of his mouth is trying not to turn up.

"And you, Mr. Matthews? There are only two days available to drop and add classes in J-term. Do you have any questions on the syllabus? Anything you think might be a challenge?"

"Uh, no, nope. Professor Feeny. I just… I'll just have to keep up on the reading," Cory answered, before clearing his throat.

Cory's tone dampens Shawn's jubilation just a little bit. He talked Cory into taking this class instead of the pottery class that Topanga had pushed for, which would have fulfilled a requirement, and probably helped Cory bring his grades back up, and Cory sounds less than confident.

"I don't think you've ever called me Professor Feeny," Mr. Feeny said, with a suspicious chuckle under his words.

"I just think it's important to maintain… decorum in a classroom," Cory said. "A classroom where the word 'genitals' was used no less than 12 times."

"Ah," Feeny said, nodding in understanding. "I see. Well. You'll get used to it. This is college. We're all adults here."

Shawn kicked the leg of Cory's desk as Feeny collected his papers and the old fashioned valise that he still kept them all in. "Come on. Peter says the cafeteria line is crazy during J term. Most classes let out at the same time. Let's hurry before we have to eat tofu steaks and mushy peas."

Cory cleared his throat again and started gathering up his books.

"Mr. Hunter, remind your Mr. McDonald that his extension deadline is today. I know how they run the basketball players at this institution, but I will only give one extension. His paper needs to be in my office by five on the dot in order to receive credit."

"Not to worry, Mr. Feeny," Shawn replied. "It's practically done, I just promised I'd proof it for him after lunch."

"Good. And Cory?"

"Yes, Professor Feeny?"

"You only have until Wednesday to move into another class. If you think the subject matter in this room is going to make it difficult for you to maintain attention, I will not be offended if you need to exchange it for something else. Take care of yourself first for these next couple of semesters."

"I'll be fine Mr. Feeny," Cory says, actually sounding convincing as he and Shawn head for the classroom door. "Thanks for looking out for me though."

"Always," Mr. Feeny told them as they left the room.

Shawn has never been this happy to get back to school after a break. Intro to Gender and Sexuality was going to be fascinating, even with Cory flinching next to him every time Feeny used a word like "vagina". It's such a  _college_  class. Open discussion on topics they weren't even allowed to talk about in high school. Real  _academic thought_ on things he'd only recently started to feel like he could ask about. He'd bought his book as soon as he'd signed up for the class in order to get the cheapest used one, and he'd already read a few chapters.

He and Cory leave the humanities building in silence, pulling their scarves tighter and turning their collars up against the cold as they step out into the brutal January wind.

"Cor?"

"Shawnie?

"It's cool if this class isn't your thing. You know that right? I mean, I know I pushed you into it, but Feeny's right. You're on academic probation."

"That's why I wanted to take this class with you. So you can help me study."

Shawn laughs. "Fine. Fair enough."

"So… Feeny knows about Peter?" Cory asks.

A few months ago that question would have been hesitant. Querulous. Now it's a clear push to change the subject.

"Well. Feeny is Peter's advisor. So, I sure hope he knows about him," Shawn says as seriously as he can.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You know what I mean," Cory shoots back.

"Yeah. I ran into Feeny in the Union. We had a cup of coffee. The man teaches intro to Gender and Sexuality. I once showed up to school in a velvet dress, a wig, heavy makeup, tights, and  _heels_  and all he said was 'My office is always open, if you need to talk, I'm not here to judge'," Shawn says. "He  _does not care_  that I have a boyfriend."

Cory shrugs. "Alright."

"You sure you're okay?" Shawn asks. "You don't have to be super into the class. It's fine."

Silence falls between them as they cross the snowy campus.

"You ever sit somewhere for an hour and think 'oh my god, I am the only virgin in this room?'," Cory finally asks

With great effort, Shawn does not laugh. He manages a nearly thoughtful sounding, "Umm… no."

Cory groans.

"I mean, that's not really what "Gender and Sexuality" means. We're going to be reading texts and watching movies and talking about how they reinforce or attempt to subvert normative sexuality or the patriarchy."

Cory repeats Shawn's inflection, but switches all the words out for an obnoxious honking noise.

"Feeny's right." Shawn shakes his head. "If you don't want to be in this class, you need to make that call in, like, the next three hours."

"No. I'm staying in the class," Cory says, with exasperation.

"Okay. That's it. Why are you being weird?" Shawn asked, as he and Cory walked into the cafeteria.

"Topanga," Cory answered.

"I assumed," Shawn sighs as they walk into the cafeteria doors. He tries not to feel annoyed. He and Cory have really been trying to get back to normal since he finally came out. One of Shawn's normal things has always been listening to Cory bitch about Topanga. And as much as he's grown to hate talking about Topanga over the last six months, he knows how much Cory needs it right now.

Jeremy, Beth, and Peter are waiting for them just inside the cafeteria doors. They all fall in together, moving into a much more crowded than usual lunch line. Peter gives Shawn a quick kiss.

"Did you bring your paper?" Shawn asks him.

"And a red pen."

"Good. Feeny asked me to remind you."

"It's very, very weird that you're kind of buds with Professor Feeny."

"He was my next door neighbor growing up," Cory cut in.

"And our principle. And our teacher for like half our classes," Shawn added.

"In what grade?" Peter asked.

"All of them," Cory and Shawn answered together.

After getting their cards swiped they break off into different lines, Cory following Shawn to the salad bar to continue their conversation.

"Topanga wants to visit," Cory says. "Stay with me. For a weekend."

Shawn drops the tongs back into the spinach leaves in surprise. "What? When?"

"This weekend," Cory tells him. "What do I do?"

To his surprise, Shawn has to bite back the words, "Break up with her."

It's the first time he's thought it so completely. All year he's been holding himself back from thoughts like "You need to talk to her about this", "You two need to decide what you really want", and "Should long distance really be this hard?".

He's never gotten all the way to "Break up with her." Even thinking it gives him a tight, gross feeling in his stomach. He's always wanted what Cory and Topanga have, and he's always believed in it. Even after the Lauren debacle. Only Cory had faith longer than Shawn did.

"What do you want to do?" Shawn eventually asks, adding cut red peppers to his salad.

Cory sighs. "I… I want to see her."

There's something in Cory's tone, though. The last couple times Topanga had been coming to Philadelphia to stay with them he'd been… obnoxious. Even smug. Now he seems worried. Shawn stays quiet, scooting his way down the salad bar.

"But…" Cory digs the tongs into the romaine lettuce. "Look, Topanga and I haven't talked about, you know. The hiatus."

"Are you serious?" Shawn demands. "Cory-"

"I know. I know. I just… I thought she was going to break up with me. And I know you and Peter thought the same thing."

Shawn doesn't bother to deny it.

"We've talked on the phone a couple times in the last two weeks. She's called me. I've called her. We've talked about Christmas and school, we just haven't talked about… that. I want to have her come here, and talk to me face to face about… you know. What the hell that was."

"Okay. Well. Then do that," Shawn replies.

"Okay. Okay. I will."

They finish filling their plates and meet Peter, Beth, and Jeremy in a booth. Shawn pulls out the red pen that he really did bring along with him, and goes through Peter's paper while the rest of the table talks around him. When he finishes he hands the paper over to Peter, who pulls out his laptop and makes the corrections.

The five of them linger over dessert as much as they can. Beth and Jeremy leave for their knitting group. Cory goes to the library to get a head start on the home work that Feeny had assigned, leaving Shawn and Peter to take their trays to the kitchen and leave the cafeteria together, mittened hands linked between them.

"So… after you hand your paper off to Feeny do you want to go run that errand?"

"Errand?" Peter yawns.

Shawn smiles and squeezes Peter's hand. "The one we've been talking about?"

"Oh," Peter finally cottons on and squeezes Shawn's hand back.

They've been talking about going to a sex toy shop together. They keep telling each other that they can ask for things, and it's okay if one wants to experiment, but neither ever knew what they might want. It had been Shawn's idea, and he's a little concerned that Peter's not actually into it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to rain check on you today. I was going to hand this off to Feeny, sleep until practice. I think all I'm going to have the energy for tonight is a little bit of cuddling and TV. Is that okay?"

Shawn shoulder checks him. "Yeah. That's fine."

They part ways at the library with a kiss. Shawn stands in the snow, considering his options. He's already read the chapters Feeny assigned in class today. He still only has half a poem to bring to the slam poetry meeting he's going to tomorrow… but it's only his second meeting. No one expects him to have a full performance piece written by tomorrow night.

With no clear plan in mind, he adjusts the strap of his bag and walks toward the bus stop.

* * *

Cory glances up at the library clock. He's only managed to get through half of the reading Feeny assigned, but he feels like he understands it and he's taken good notes. He sighs and bends back over his book, then stops.

No. Now he's just repeating bad habits from last semester. He knows he won't learn if he sits here and tries to force the information into his brain.

It's okay to take breaks. That was one of the things he'd been working on with Feeny. And speaking of Feeny, Cory knows that his mentor's late afternoon yoga class is his best bet for a way to relax for a while and come back to the material when he's fresh.

He closes his book and goes back to his room for his yoga stuff. By the time he walks into his dorm he knows he's making the right decision. An hour of sweating and gentle instructions from Feeny is the best way he's found to put anxious thoughts out of his head. It's what got him through the three week hiatus Topanga had put on their relationship and it's what is going to get him through the stress he has right now.

It could be worse. He knows that. He and Shawn are friends again, and he wonders if Shawn realizes that the main reason Cory is taking class with him is to make it practically impossible for them to drift apart the way they did over fall term. If he doesn't think about the three week hiatus, then things are normal with him and Topanga.

But he's still rattling with anxious thoughts. He texted Topanga during lunch to tell her that she should stay with him for the weekend and hasn't heard back from her yet. So much is riding on getting a good grade in this J-term class, and even though he's taken the precautions of Feeny as his teacher and Shawn as his study-buddy, it's tough to be starting over again after he did so badly in the fall.

There are other things too. Things are back to normal between him and Shawn now, but Shawn is still busy with his boyfriend. Cory's last few phone calls with Topanga have been amazing, almost like when they were first dating, but in his gut he can still feel something wrong between them.

He needs to turn all of that off for an hour. And he knows how to do that.

Just the act of rolling out his mat on the tile floor lifts some of the weight off his shoulders. He takes a sip of water and starts stretching out his shoulders.

He's bent over his knees when he hears a soft "pat" of a mat being set down next to him first on his left, then another on his right. The breeze from the first mat dropping smells lightly of lavender and patchouli. Cory lifts his chest up and looks to his left. A girl that he vaguely recognizes gives him a small smile and a wave.

She has short hair. Very short. It's almost as short as his own, except on the top, where it's a riot of tight curls. She has darker eyes than he's ever seen, something about the way the line of her eye curls up at the ends makes it seem like she's laughing, despite the quietness of her. He feels like he recognizes her, and finally, as his eyes drop from her face, he sees the big cartoon otter on her t-shirt, advertising the middle school summer reading program in Durnsville, Indiana, and realizes who it is.

"Shannon," he whispers. "Wow. Nice hair cut. I… didn't recognize you."

Shannon was one of the people from yoga that he'd talked to a couple times. Walked across campus with once or twice. She was usually hunched under the weight of her books and the last time he'd seen her, she'd had dry, wavy hair hanging to her elbows.

She laughs and runs her hand over the curls sprouting over her forehead.

"Thanks. I've been getting a lot of that. I got it done over Christmas."

"It's very cool," Cory said.

Shannon gives him a wider smile. "Thanks."

She opens her mouth to say something else, just as Feeny walks in and tells everyone to move into extended child's pose.

As Cory rearranges his body he sees that Shawn is on the mat on his other side, grinning at him with a raised eyebrow.

* * *

"I'm sure he's not mad," Peter yawns, tucking his arm under Shawn's and around his stomach.

They're spooning on Peter's bed. Theoretically they are watching a movie on Peter's computer, but Shawn knows Peter's half asleep. Shawn's not really watching. He's distracted by other things.

"I know. I know," Shawn sighs. "Just. You know. We've been a little touch and go this year. The Topanga thing is a sore spot. I probably shouldn't have teased him about that Shannon girl flirting with him.

Shawn shifts back against Peter, biting his lip at the feeling of Peter's warm body pressed against him, and the silk sliding against his skin.

His random bus ride had taken him downtown. He'd gotten a latte, and went window shopping. It had been a weird afternoon. He'd kept trying to picture his high school self doing this. Walking around with a five dollar coffee, looking at silly things while wearing a warm jacket. Going into nice stores and not being followed. Thinking about how his boyfriend's birthday was coming up.

He'd wound up, ultimately, at Target to pick up things he needed and could actually afford. A wrong turn had brought him into the hosiery section and that's when he'd seen it.

Maybe it was because he'd been thinking about high school all day. Maybe it was because he and Peter had to keep putting off their little adventure, but the little pajama outfit, silky blue shorts with lace on the legs. A little tank that matched.

He'd tried to tell himself no, but the clearance sticker had swayed him, and the clerks smug look had been easily banished with a saucy wink. At some point before putting it on, he'd laid it out on his bed and sent Angela a picture. Her reply had been lovingly sarcastic.

And now here he is, with lingerie under his clothes, heart thrumming while Peter falls asleep.

He settles his hand onto Peter's, running his thumb over Peter's knuckles until he sighs, and squeezes Shawn a little tighter.

"So, are you ever going to let me read the poem you're writing for your slam team thing?" Peter asks.

"It's for performing, not reading," Shawn answers.

"But you looovveee meeee," Peter argues. He pulls Shawn tight against his body again, in a familiar way that makes Shawn's cock start to go hard. They haven't had sex all week, Peter's basketball and class schedule is just so crazy.

Shawn wriggles out of Peter's grip, and turns so that they are face to face. "You're okay, I guess." He presses a quick kiss to Peter's lips, and sighs happily as Peter pulls him back in for another.

Even as he and Peter kiss and undress each other, Shawn finds himself thinking, just a little, about Cory and Topanga, more specifically, about Cory's only virgin in the room comment. Shawn wonders what Topanga is waiting for. She isn't religious enough for it to be marriage, and she and Cory have been together for so long, it doesn't make sense that it would be for something like compatibility, or trust.

But then Peter climbs on top of him and starts unbuttoning his jeans, and Shawn doesn't have room in head for anyone else's sex life anymore. The fabric glints in the light and Peter grins.

"Silk boxers, huh?" he laughs, pulling Shawn's jeans down a little further.

Shawn's heartbeat is hammering in his chest now. "Not quite." He reaches up and undoes Peter's fly, sliding his hand over Peter's erection.

"Then what are they?"

"You'll see," Shawn whispers. "Undress for me first."

Peter laughs, which almost hides the dark circles under his eyes, and pulls his shirt over his head before hopping off the bed and divesting himself of his pants and boxers.

Shawn swings his legs over the side of the bed, takes Peter's cock in his hand and brings it to his mouth, teasing and kissing as Peter's fingers comb through his hair, and, finally start to tug at Shawn's clothes again.

"No," Shawn says, when Peter grabs at the hem of his shirt. "I want to do it."

He and Peter switch positions, Shawn standing and undressing, with Peter watching. Shawn steps out of his already half off jeans first, then pulls off the light sweater he's wearing over the thin, spaghetti strap tank top.

He feels saucy and cute as he drops his normal clothes to the floor, but the feeling is gone when he looks at Peter's face.

He looks horrified. And when Shawn looks down at the rest of his body, the horror is made even more evident by Peter's deflating cock.

"Um. Whoa," Peter manages.

Shawn doesn't feel saucy or cute anymore. He feels grotesque. He starts pulling the tank top over his head, tears springing to his eyes. "Umm… never mind. I just…"

Peter grabs him around the waist. "Wait. Wait. Okay? Let's um… we should talk about this."

Shawn twists out of his hands. "No. It's fine. We don't have to. I'll just… It's stupid. I'll take it off."

"Shawn, no, talk to me. You… you wanted to try something. I told you that we could try new things. Let's… this is what you wanted to try?"

Shawn's stomach roils. He wants to run away from this. He wants to either slide the stupid lingerie off and pretend this never happened, or throw on Peter's robe and bolt downstairs to his and Cory's room.

But Peter sets his hands on Shawn's waist again. Shawn sucks in a deep breath and, with his mind still demanding that he run away, he moves toward Peter, and sits down on the bed. He snatches his sweater off the floor and pulls it back on. He twitches Peter's sheets over his lap to hide the fake silk and lace shorts.

Peter kisses his cheek. "Okay. So let's talk about it."

Bar none, it is the weirdest relationship conversation Shawn's ever had. They talk about Veronica Wasboyski, and the time Shawn spent a few days in a dress. He has to assure Peter that he doesn't want to be a woman, and he just saw it and liked it. Peter has to assure him that he doesn't think Shawn is disgusting or ugly in it. He just has some hang ups about women's underwear, stemming, he's sure, from the black bra incident in high school, and realizing he was gay when a girl stripped down to her lacies in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Shawn finally says, as Peter scoots back on the bed.

"No, it's fine. Don't be sorry."

"I just… I felt like I could try something and you wouldn't… "

"Freak out?" Peter asks, setting his hands to Shawn's shoulders. He starts digging his thumbs into the muscles at Shawn's neck. "You just surprised me. It's fine."

There's more Shawn wants to say. He wants to tell Peter that he bought the lingerie because he felt safe enough to try something and experiment and be… playful in a way he never would have dared before, because he'd known that eventually, it would turn out alright. Peter wouldn't dump or belittle him for a weird curveball like this. And he hadn't. He hadn't taken it particularly well, but still. Here they were. Still in bed. Touching.

Shawn is starting to feel like he didn't have to… be who he'd always been in order to have people love him. Peter would let him stumble around trying to figure out who he really was. Cory would, eventually, let Shawn grown and change, even when the change threw him for a loop. Hell, even Feeny and Angela couldn't be fazed.

"But you don't like it," Shawn says.

Peter throws his legs wide so Shawn is sitting between them and kisses his neck. "It's not something I would picture you wearing when I'm thinking about you."

"Thinking about me?"

"When you're busy, and I'm  _horny_  and I'm thinking about you, you're usually in that ratty red tee shirt. With the om symbol on it. And those sort of… flannel boxers."

Shawn's body warms. Peter still wants to fool around. Detour completed, everything is back to normal.

"If you don't like it, I'll take it off," Shawn insists.

"Let's compromise," Peter says, with another lingering kiss at Shawn's neck. "Take the tank top off."

Shawn leans forward and pulls the nearly weightless fabric over his head, then leans back against Peter again.

Peter takes hold of Shawn's cock over the soft material, and starts jerking him off very, very slowly.

"Now beg to fuck me tonight," Peter growls into Shawn's ear, "And I might just let you."

It does not turn out to be quite the adventurous sex Shawn had been picturing, but it is certainly fun.

 


	26. In Which the Future is Considered Part 1

Shawn Hunter knows he has not led a blameless life. He's said hurtful things. Made his friends and guardians worry about him. Turned on friends who were only trying to help.

Blown up innocent mailboxes.

But Shawn is sure- deep in his soul, he is  _sure_ \- that he has never ever done anything bad enough to deserve coming all over himself, naked and tied to Peter and Jeremy's bunkbeds at the wrists and knees, while, right next to him, his best friend, rifles through the aforementioned boyfriend's nightstand.

But despite what Shawn may or may not have done in his life, that is what is happening.

* * *

_A Day and A Half Ago_

Cory has been thinking about how to approach this subject with Shawn ever since he got the email. He'd been crushed when Topanga had cancelled her trip at the beginning of January, but now he has the email. And since the subject hasn't come up naturally between him and Shawn, and Topanga is going to be in Philadelphia in 19 hours, he's going to have to start it. And it has to be now.

It should be easy. It's something that they used to talk about all the time. And it is important to their newly rebuilt friendship for Shawn to understand that they can still talk about it now.

Here it goes.

"So, we never talk about sex anymore."

It is not an ideal opener. For one thing, he and Shawn are in the middle of the student union. For another, he has said it out loud into an otherwise silent moment, where Shawn has been hunched over Cory's laptop, creating more power point slides.

And worst of all, he has shouted.

There's no turning back now.

Shawn looks at him in surprise, then glances around, to see if anyone in hearing distance is reacting. When he doesn't see anyone giving them any type of significant look, he turns his body back to Cory's laptop and clears his throat.

"We've been talking about sex for the last 45 minutes." He gestures at their far from completed power point for tomorrow's class.

"No, not "The Erasure of Erotica from the History of Media Production"," Cory sighs. The heat is rising in his cheeks. "Real stuff. Personal Stuff. Personal life stuff."

Shawn stares at the screen of Cory's laptop a little longer, then slowly turns to Cory. "Are you asking me about my sex life?

"Yeah…man," Cory says raising his fist to give Shawn a friendly punch and stopping halfway there. He has never in his life felt less smooth. He's just about to give up when Shawn finally unclenches.

"Is this about the rubber band thing?" Shawn asks carefully. "Cause… we've gotten a lot better about that. We just… get carried away."

"No, that's not…" Cory stops, and figuring that it's best not to pass up the opportunity, starts again. "I mean, that's not what this is about, but that would be great. I'm really sick of walking in on the two of you."

"What is this about?"

"Hanging out?" Cory tried. "With you? My best buddy?"

"You know, Cor. If you tell me what you want, I might help you."

Cory thinks about deflecting. He shouldn't have brought this up in a public place, and Shannon is supposed to be meeting them with her part of the project in the next half hour, but it's too late now.

Cory pulls his phone out of his back pocket and brings up his email. "So… Topanga sent me this email on Monday."

He hands it over to Shawn. He's read it so many times in the last week that he has it memorized.

_Dear Cory,_

_I'm really sorry I had to back out of my trip a couple weeks ago. I feel terrible, but it was an opportunity that I really couldn't afford to miss. Thank you for understanding._

_I've attached a picture of my train ticket for Friday. I am really, really coming this time. Let me know if you can't pick me up at one, I don't mind taking the bus to campus if you're still in class._

_I'm really excited to see you, and I promise I will make your wait worth it._

_Love,_

_Topanga._

Shawn looks up at Cory with a pitying expression.

"Based on this, do you really think she's finally going to sleep with you?"

"Based on this? No," Cory says. "But, there's more that you don't know. She wanted to fool around over Thanksgiving break, and she let something slip about going on birth control. We haven't directly talked about… you know. Going all the way-"

"Cory- if you're going to do it, you should say it."

"Fine," Cory dropped his voice so that only Shawn could hear him. " _Having sex._  But… she's sending pretty clear signals that it's a possibility this weekend."

"And so you're asking me about my sex life because…."

"Come on, you have a lot of experience."

"I've only slept with one girl," Shawn scoffs.

"Yeah… but…. You slept with her a lot and you fooled around with a ton of girls in high school, and you… you know…" Cory can't think of a way to backpedal. The thought he's trying to express is "I've seen you having sex with Peter. You're the girl. You must have some insight to offer from that perspective." But he's not stupid enough to say it.

Shawn squints at him. Cory is certain that Shawn has figured out what he's trying so hard not to say, pulling the words out of his mind in the way that only people who have always known you can.

"I have… a diversity of experience," Shawn finishes.

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Cory, we are presenting at 9:00 in the morning and this project is barely started and Shannon is on her way-"

"-but just think how much less distracted I'll be if I'm not worried about this."

Shawn looks up at the ceiling as though praying for strength, but when he looks down he throws out a hand. "Fine. Give me that notebook and your pen."

Cory obliges. Shawn flips to a page in the middle of the notebook and starts to draw. He draws the outline of a woman, and then next to it what looks like a set of parenthesis, with a circle on top, inside a set of much larger parenthesis.

He labels the figure "Girl" and the smattering of punctuation "Vagina".

"Jesus," Cory hisses. "Why do you have to do that?"

"Cory?"

"Fine. I'm here to learn."

Shawn drops the pen onto the table and starts digging through his bag.

"Whatchya doing?"

Cory drops his forehead into his hand. He should have done this in a locked room in the dark somewhere. He would have, if the opportunity had cropped up earlier.

But it's too late now. There is nothing to stop Eric from dropping down on the couch next to Shawn.

Shawn doesn't even slow down. He pulls a highlighter out of his backpack, highlights the circle on top of the parenthesis and says, "I'm teaching Cory how to have sex so we can get back to writing up a summary of the Hayes Code." He continues to run the highlighter over the figure of the woman, running bright yellow stripes over the curves of her neck, her inner thighs, and over the little upturned C's that represent breasts.

Eric throws his head back and laughs like a Disney villain. "But you're gay."

Shawn runs the highlighter over the sides of the woman's stomach, without looking up. "I'm not gay. I have a boyfriend, I haven't always had a boyfriend, this project is 30% of our grade and we can't finish  _that_  until we finish  _this."_

"Well fine, then you better let the master help," Eric sighs, pulling a green crayon out of his back pocket and leaning over the paper as well.

"Oh my god, Eric, stop. Come on? I'm not embarrassed enough?"

"I've been with way more girls than Shawn. You need me. This is the sort of thing brothers should talk about. Frankly I'm hurt that you went to your gay best friend before you came to me," Eric replies, still dutifully drawing. "Hey! Jack! Jack!" He calls across the union. "I've been with more girls than Shawn, right?"

Jack picks his coffee up off of the counter and holds still. For a moment, Cory is sure that he will experience some form of mercy today. Jack will choose not to engage, and will just walk away.

But that doesn't happen. Jack marches over. "What the hell are you three doing?"

"We're teaching Cory how to have sex," Eric answers. He completes his own drawing, which, scooting closer, Cory can see is the back of a figure of a woman.

"And we're doing it quickly so we can get back to homework," Shawn adds. He looks down at Eric's drawing, sighs in resignation and brushes his highlighter over her shoulders, then down her spine, then around her butt.

"Hey, now," Jack drops down on the other side of the coffee table and points at the green crayon woman's highlighted butt. "None of that. That's too advanced a maneuver for a rookie."

"And Topanga's not going to let him do that," Eric added.

"No! Not that!" Shawn growls and holds his hands up with his finger half clenched, as though he is very aggressively holding two cantaloupes. "This."

"Oooohhhh," Jack and Eric reply. "Yeah. Good call."

Cory looks between his three nodding comrades and starts to feel panic building in chest. "Fuck. I am going to screw this up. I am going to screw this up so badly."

"It's okay little brother. We are here to help you. Those of us who have seen over 20 girls naked, are here to help you."

Jack waves his hands in front of himself. "Wow. I didn't say 20."

"Neither did I," Shawn said. "But I'm thinking of a number a lot higher, and I want this to be over. So everyone shut up." He scoots the paper across the glass top table toward Cory. Cory's cheeks burn and his intestines lurch as Jack and Eric watch the paper move, and then look up at him with amused and pitying expressions.

He is nineteen years old. He's never seen a girl naked in real life. Looking over Shawn's diagram he can count four of the eight highlighted places where he's touched Topanga, over her clothes, and it's none of the good ones.

The fact that Topanga is in the same boat should be comforting, but Cory's thought about it over and over, and it never helps.

Shawn taps his pen to the figure labeled vagina. "Okay, please tell me you've at least seen one of these on film."

"Maybe a little," Cory admits, wondering how much more embarrassed he can get before his whole face catches on fire.

"Okay. Well, forget that image, it's not real."

"Yeah, forget all those images," Jack adds. "They only make girls mad."

"And Topanga would kill you," Shawn agrees.

"Well, then why did you ask?"

"Because this is the most detailed drawing I'm going to do," Shawn answers. "And I want to think you can at least imagine the missing detail." He taps his pen to the drawing again. "This is not your goal."

"That's what you get for asking the gay friend," Eric sing-songs.

"Shut up, Eric," Shawn barks. "Yes, this is where you are trying to get, but sex isn't skee ball. You don't shoot for the center hole at the expense of everything else."

"Or sex  _is_  like skee ball, because even the outer ridges are worth points," Jack countered.

"What are you all doing?"

Cory wishes he was dead. He's sure that, if he had been bleeding out on the coffee table, this many people wouldn't have stopped to talk to him. And if bleeding out on the coffee table was already more appealing than his current circumstance of a group sex talk from his best friend, his brother, and his brother's roommate/best friend's brother, he hates to think of what deaths would be preferable to Peter McDonald joining this conversation.

Shawn turns around at the sound of his boyfriend's voice, but Eric answers for him. "We're teaching Cory how to have sex."

"With girls," Jack adds.

Peter's eyebrows disappear under his hat. "Oookkaaaaayyy. Sweetheart? I'll text you about tonight. I'm… I am going to go drink my coffee somewhere else." He lifts his cup to Cory in salute. "Good luck, Matthews."

Cory is overwhelmed with relief as Peter walks away.

After a moment, Shawn picks his pen back up. "Umm. Right. Where was I?"

"Shooting for the center hole," Jack says with a smirk and a laugh.

Shawn sticks his tongue out at Jack and taps his pen to the shadowed circle in the vagina drawing.

"Right," Shawn shakes his head. "Okay. So. Don't think of this as your goal, because if you do, you are going to have terrible sex. You do not want Topanga to have terrible sex, and then get on a train home the next day."

"You want her to have great sex, and then go home and be unable to think about anything but how good you were for weeks," Jack adds.

"Bingo." Eric points a finger from Cory to Jack. "What he said."

"So, with that goal in mind," Shawn taps the female figure again. "Here are all the bases you should hit before trying for a home run."

"That's actually not bad."

The new voice is female, and much more amused than any of the others. Cory looks up and his stomach drops in horror at the sight in front of him.

Shannon, red cheeked and grinning, with snowflakes glistening in her hair.

She grunts as she shifts her heavy backpack off her shoulders, then sets it on the couch and sits down next to it, right next to Shawn. Without even asking what they're doing, she pulls the pen out of Shawn's hand, crosses out "Vagina" and writes "Vulva" then crosses out "Girl" and writes "Woman". All four boys watch in silence as she sketches a third drawing on the paper. It takes a few pen strokes to realize that it's a woman from the side.

"Okay, so I'm not really an artist, but I think you get the idea," Shannon says. She draws two close-together parallel lines, angling back toward the curve that represents the woman's butt. She draws something that looks a little like a bean at the top, angled the other way.

"What's that?" Eric and Jack ask together.

"I'll tell you in a second. I really want to see where you boys were going with this." With a grin, she hands the pen back to Shawn.

Cory's embarrassed enough at winding up in this discussion with people he's known so long. He really, really, does not want to explain to Shannon that he's a virgin.

But her quiet grin is flustering the hell out of Shawn, which makes her sudden interruption almost worth it.

For a couple minutes at least.

Shawn isn't nearly as embarrassed to talk about ways to touch, kiss, lick, and nibble at all sorts of places on a woman as Cory is to hear about it, and by the time Shawn moves onto his vulva drawing, taps his pen cap to the little circle at the top and starts to explain that this is the key to pleasing a woman, be that with pressure, fingers, or tongue, Cory's face feels like it might actually burst into flames. He keeps glancing from Shawn's drawing to Shannon's face. Even though she isn't grinning anymore, Cory can't help the embarrassment that's making him start to sweat grotesquely.

Shawn reaches the end of his sentence, clears his throat and looks at Shannon. "Did I miss anything?"

"That was encouragingly complete," she replies, shaking her head a little. "Especially cause I thought you were gay."

"I'm not gay. I have a boyfriend," Shawn repeats again.

"Gotchya." Shannon nods.

"So… those are the bases. I guess we better move onto the homerun stage." Shawn holds the pen out to Shannon. "I'll leave that to the… experts?"

His voice turns up strangely on the last word, and something in his tone makes Eric and Jack exchange a significant look, which signifies nothing to Cory. Shannon gives Shawn an equally strange look as she takes the pen from him, lips pinched together and eyebrows raised. Cory wonders if all these glances and expressions are something that are unintelligible to him because he's a virgin.

"Okay, so… where am I starting here? Are you guys just exchanging tips? Are there problems in the bedroom somewhere? Anybody sleeping with a new girl?"

"Cory's a virgin," Eric replies immediately.

Cory understands Shannon's expression this time. It's surprise, quickly muffled by neutrality.

"But hopefully he won't be by Saturday. It's about time you and Topanga got freak-ay." Eric reaches across the table to punch Cory in the knee. Cory slaps him away.

"Jesus, Eric, could you just… for fuck's sake." Cory draws himself in, and away from Eric. He can't quite bring himself to look at Shannon.

"Topanga, huh? That's an unusual name."

It's a comment Cory has heard a thousand times before, but it suddenly strikes him that he's never heard it from Shannon. They've been acquaintances for a couple months, and they've been working on this project with Shawn all week. Has he really never mentioned Topanga to her before?

"Yeah. Um. I know it is. I just… forget that because we've been together since like, grade school."

"Oh. Wow. So this is a big weekend. Well. I think it's really mature of you to get the information together first."

She launches into a description of her drawing. Cory's still having trouble looking at her while she talks. When she starts to gesture and add more drawings while suggesting good positions for a first time, Cory pulls his textbook into his lap as subtly as he can manage, and watches as Jack, Eric, and even Shawn stare at her in rapt fascination as she explains the arcane physiology of the g-spot and the cervix, and what actually happens during foreplay.

After a very thorough explanation, Shannon finally sets her pen down. Jack slowly reaches his hand out and slides the paper toward himself.

"So yeah. That's all the technical stuff, but really, the most important thing to do is listen."

Cory stares at the place where the paper used to be, watching Jack and Eric out of the corners of his eyes as Shannon continues to talk. Jack, still moving slowly, like he's trying not to scare the paper away, pulls a notebook out of his backpack. Eric sticks his arm under the glass table and turns on the flashlight on his phone. Jack starts to trace all of Shannon and Shawn's drawings onto a fresh piece of paper.

"And to talk. Tell each other what feels good. What doesn't. Don't feel like you have to do it a certain way for it to count. You'll be nervous, try to find ways to make yourselves less nervous."

"Yeah," Cory manages. "Yeah. Um. Thanks."

Shannon laughs. "Okay. Well. Now that we have that out of the way, I'm going to go use the restroom, get a cup of coffee and give you boys the chance to… uh… calm down." She hopped up off the couch and walked off in the direction of the restrooms.

"She is hot as hell," Jack says, still tracing.

"Yeah," Eric says. "Oh yeah."

"But I think she's…" Jack shrugs. He finishes tracing, turns to a fresh page in his notebook and slides the papers across the table to Eric. Eric hands Jack his phone under the table, and begins to trace his own copy of the drawings.

"She's what?" Cory asked. He was repeating baseball statistics in his head, willing himself to be calmed down by the time Shannon got back. She knew exactly what she'd done to all of them, and that thought was not helping him in his quest to be less hard.

"Gay," Jack answered.

Shawn opens Cory's laptop back up and pulls his presentation notes toward himself. "Yeah. I kinda think so too."

"You can't tell?" Cory asks. He knows it's stupid once it's out of his mouth, but he's concentrating on too many other things right now.

Shawn sighs. "No, Cor. I can't tell. But, I mean…"

"She has vagina magic," Eric supplies, pointing at the drawing on the table. "This is like the goddamn Rosacea Stone. The Holy Braille. She just gave us the tools to turn us from men into  _gods_."

"Right. That," Shawn says.

"Are you serious? A couple weeks ago you kept teasing me about her flirting with me."

Shawn shrugs again. Cory opens his mouth to but closes it when he sees Shannon come back out of the bathroom and get in line for coffee. Eric finishes tracing by the time Shannon makes it to the front of the coffee line.

"Okay. I'm off to find a very lucky lady," Eric declares, rolling his piece of notebook paper up like a scroll and marching out onto the grounds with no coat.

"Yeah…. Me too," Jack says. He folds his paper, pulls on his coat and tucks the little square very carefully into an inner pocket of his coat before setting off himself.

Shannon returns, and she, Cory, and Shawn work on their project, wrapping everything up just before dinner. They all walk to the cafeteria together, meeting up with Peter along the way. When Shannon leaves to eat dinner with her friends, Cory's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

* * *

"Uhmm, Topanga? What's with you?" Albany asks. Topanga's roommate has been hand rolling clove cigarettes for the last fifteen minutes. Topanga has been staring at her empty suitcase for much longer than that.

"Oh… I'm just… not sure what I need."

"It's a two and a half day trip. Panties. Jamas. Change of clothes. Use his shit and you don't even need to bring toiletries. Blam."

"Right," Topanga replies tonelessly.

"But?"

It's strange to Topanga that she and Albany had become so close in the last few months. She's never been in this kind of friendship before. Yeah, she and Angela had gotten close for a while after Shawn and Angela had started dating, but they've hardly talked since Thanksgiving. College friendships are just different. Albany. Sanjay. Terry. Collin. Xioa. Padme. They are her  _core_  in a way she's never ever had before. They're her family. They eat all their meals together, sit up in the library all night together. Buy each other cold meds when they're sick. Bring each other coffee and talk each other through the little bouts of homesickness that have gone away as a shared dorm room and a couple acres of campus have become home to all of them.

So of course Albany knows when she's holding something back.

"But I kind of feel like I should be bringing my old clothes," Topanga admits. "My makeup. My four different shampoos and two different conditioners. All that shit."

She and Albany sigh in unison. Albany finishes rolling the cigarette she is working on and hands it to Topanga. They move toward the window and pull it open just wide enough to blow smoke out of. Topanga grabs the lighter off the window ledge and hands it to Albany who lights both cigarettes.

"Okay. I'm just going to say this, and I'm sorry for being a skinny bitch- how many of your old clothes fit?"

Topanga snorts. Albany has a point. Topanga's high school style of slacks and blazers and buttons ups had been pretty unforgiving. She hadn't gained the freshman fifteen, it was more like the freshman five, but she'd gone up a cup size when she started birth control.

Albany had taken her out shopping because she couldn't stand the way Topanga kept tugging at blouses and slacks. And after weeks of crammed into tight, structured clothes, Topanga had just wanted to be comfortable. Her style was more tee shirts, jeans, and flannel now. She'd given up on makeup all together, because she didn't want to get up early enough to put it on. And her hair? Forget it. She didn't have an hour to spend in front of the mirror with a hairdryer and round brush anymore. These days it was either a frizzy mess or a slightly greasy mess, braided down her back. Once she lost some weight she was thinking of cutting it super short.

"None of them," Topanga tells her, blowing a plume of sweet smoke out into the cold January air.

"Well. Problem solved. Pack shit you actually wear."

"You're right. You're right. I'm just dithering."

"Because of the sex thing?" Albany asked.

"A little. I mean. It's a big deal."

"It doesn't have to be. Virginity is an imaginary construct created to control and degrade women."

"But going through a rite of passage, especially one that entails so much intimacy and vulnerability is still big."

"But that's not why you're worried. Intimacy and Vulnerability? Both trust things. You trust Cory. You've said you feel ready. What's the hold up?"

Topanga took another drag of her cigarette. "I wish I'd just slept with him in high school. Everything was simple. We were in love. We knew every single thing about each other. I had this rock hard certainty that we were going to be together forever and that we both wanted that, and nothing could stop that from coming true. And now that just seems like such… childish crap"

Topanga twirls her cigarette between her fingers and wonders if this friendship is like what Cory and Shawn have. This feeling that she and Albany can say anything to each other.

"So you grew up." Albany shrugs. "So what? You don't have to have absolute certainty that he's the one and only forever and ever to sleep with him."

"Right. It's not like I thought we had to be married. We almost did it on prom night."

Albany snorts. "I have a hard time imagining you doing something as ludicrously cliché as getting a hotel room on prom night."

"You want cliché? I told him that I thought we were going to look into each other's eyes walking home from the library in the rain some day and just know that it was right," She laughs at herself. "But then there was a whole weird mix up with his parents staying at the same hotel, and his mom was pregnant and it just didn't seem worth the risk."

"Sure. But you're on the pill. You've got condoms. You're being responsible."

"Right. I know."

"You don't have to have sex with him. If you get there and you're not feeling it, just don't do it."

"Right. I know that too, I just... It's not even really about the sex thing. I think I'm worried…" She takes another drag, trying to force the right words to come to her. "I feel like I'm so different than I was when I moved here. And Angela and I have sort of fallen out of touch, but she was different when we talked in November. God knows Shawn is different. And I've been talking to Cory and he's finally… getting into college more. I mean… he and Shawn are still the same, but if anyone is absolutely spending the rest of their lives together it's Cory and Shawn."

"So are you afraid that he won't ever change and you'll outgrow him, or are you afraid that he did exactly what you asked, went out, tried to have experiences and changed into someone too different for you to be with?"

Topanga grinds her cigarette butt out in the ash try. "Both."

 


	27. In Which the Future is Considered Part 2

Topanga is in Cory's bed. On it. Actually.

He has a navy blue comforter from Target, with a light blue stripe at the top. The cheap polyester catches on her dry winter fingers as she slides off of Cory's bed and pulls the comforter back. The scent of Tide wafts up to her from Cory's clean, light blue, heavily wrinkled sheets.

It's not like she hasn't been in his bed before. She slept in it, with him there, when she'd come for Thanksgiving. She'd been furious with him, so they'd slept butt to butt, each keeping themselves tight and trying to stick to their side.

It shouldn't feel different now. It's just a bed.

She pulls the comforter back up and smoothes it again before dropping back down on to the old, vinyl covered mattress. She didn't remember it squeaking so much when she was here in November.

She clears her throat and pulls her computer onto her lap. Cory had left her here for a few minutes to run a stack of books back to the library. She'd felt a little bit like he was trying to get away from her, but maybe she was just nervous. He certainly was. She could tell.

She tries to push that feeling away. It's a stupid feeling. There's nothing to be nervous about. She doesn't have to do it if she changes her mind, and if she doesn't change her mind, there's still nothing to be nervous about. There are a million things she's tried for the first time this year.

Maybe she should sneak a cigarette before Cory gets back?

No. He'd smell it. She doesn't want to start a long weekend with him by having that conversation.

Instead, she pulls out her phone, surprised to see that she has seven texts. She must have forgotten to take her phone off silent this morning.

Four of them are because Terry sent out a group message. He'd finally started flirting with the girl he liked at his internship, and she had asked him out.

One is Albany letting Topanga know that she'll be drinking Topanga's wine while Topanga is gone, and wants to know what Topanga would like her to replace it with.

The last two are from Sanjay. The first is a picture of a heavily stained train seat. The second is his frowning face. He'd had a trip to Philadelphia planned for this weekend too. His parents had all but insisted he come back for some sort of event at their local temple. Apparently his travel experience was not going as well as Topanga's had.

Topanga quickly disseminates three reply texts. "Charm the pants off her, Terry", "Pinot Noir", and "Gross".

As she hits send on the last missive, she hears loud steps in the hallway. And a loud vocalization, somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"So, what? Are you pissed?"

Topanga goes stiff. Cory and Shawn's door is surprisingly permeable. Standing in front of it, Shawn and Peter sound like they are right in the room with her. She hadn't noticed that last time she'd been here either. If sound came in that easily, it would go out just as easily.

"I'm not pissed," Peter insists. "You were just trying to help your buddy. I get it. You fooled around with a lot of girls."

Topanga holds in a sigh. Cory had told Shawn about what might happen tonight. What a surprise.

"I've always known this about you," Peter continues "I was trying to set you up with girls when we first met."

"So why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

Topanga waits for a reply, but doesn't hear one. She leans back against Cory's bed, laptop on her knees. Maybe Shawn and Peter were just walking past on their way to Peter's room.

"Grouchy?" Peter scoffs. "You think I'm grouchy?"

"Well. You're something."

"I just… I don't like thinking about you with girls, okay? I get weirdly jealous, and then I feel like a possessive jerk. I like thinking about you with me."

The door swings into the room, hiding Topanga from view of the hallway and the two boys walking in.

"Well, I'm going to be with you all night," Shawn replies in a amused murmur, definitely not a voice he'd use if he could see Topanga sitting there on the bed. "And most of the weekend, and we're going to do all sorts of things I never did with those girls."

She's about to clear her throat, alert them to her presence, when the door falls shut.

Peter and Shawn come into view, entwined.

She's never actually seen them together, and to catch them in a private moment is a shock. They're in their coats, pressed together from lips to knees. Shawn's hand is resting at the nape of Peter's neck. His other hand hangs at his side, holding a plain brown paper bag. They both have their eyes closed, grinning into the kiss.

They look so, so in love.

So sure. So certain.

When they move into another kiss, rather than pull back from the first, Topanga finally clears her throat.

Shawn jumps. His and Peter's jaws bump together before they pull apart sheepishly.

"Topanga! I… didn't think you'd be here yet."

"Umm… here I am," she said, still trying to sound apologetic rather than embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Right. Right. Hello," Shawn said. "And… where's Cory?"

"He had to run to the library to exchange a couple books I guess. I stayed behind to unpack and send some emails."

She can tell by the way Shawn is looking at her that he's not just surprised by her presence, as much as by her presentation. Her hair isn't styled, it's just in its usual long braid down her back. She's wearing a loose tunic top with jeans. No make up.

When she'd come in for Thanksgiving, she'd worn her usual clothes, since they still fit. She'd pulled her make up out from the back of her wardrobe, because she knew she'd have time to put it on and wash it off.

But this time she'd come into Philadelphia in her Yale clothes and she'd left her make up at the back of her wardrobe, where it always was now.

Shawn looks a lot different than he did two months ago too, though. His hair is shaggy, with just a little bit of a curl at the ends. He's… handsome in a new way. There's something different about his face, but Topanga can't quite put her finger on what it is.

"Okay. Cool. I just dropped in to grab some clothes for tonight and tomorrow."

Peter throws himself down on Shawn's bed. Topanga watches him. He's loose and easy here in Shawn and Cory's room. He has no qualms about dropping down onto Shawn's bed. He doesn't even bother to pull his shirt back down when it rucks up his stomach, revealing a few inches of flat, muscular stomach.

It is strange to think that this is who Shawn is with now. All the girls Shawn had ever dated had been beautiful, and hyper feminine. With few exceptions, they'd been petite. A lot of them had been… the type of girls that a lot of bad things had happened to. Girls who went after Shawn because they thought he was the bad boy they deserved.

Peter being a guy really isn't that much weirder than the fact that he's a big, strong handsome guy, with a huge supportive family, who seems to actually like the guy Shawn is, instead of the leather jacket clad fantasy of who he could be.

"You guys have any big plans for the weekend?" Topanga asks.

She sees the little flicker of a smile that flashes across both of their faces.

"Uh, yeah," Shawn finally says, clearing his throat. "We're going to go have a meal plan dinner, then get dessert at Violet's and… you know. Hang out."

"Yeah," Peter concludes.

"Okay." Topanga wonders what they are being so cagey about… and then thinks about what Shawn had been saying on the way in. The way they'd kissed each other as the door closed. How efficiently Shawn is packing a weekend bag that he must pack a lot.

Sex. They are planning a lot of sex.

It's a weird revelation. She'd heard plenty about Shawn in the bedroom from Angela and everything she's heard makes it that much weirder to imagine him with Peter. But there was also the sudden… emotional jostle of realizing that she'd spent over an hour doing what Shawn was doing in moments. Packing up to spend the weekend with a boyfriend. They'd been dating for 5 months, and they were so comfortable. It exuded out of them. You couldn't look at them and not see it.

What had she and Cory been like, 5 months in?

In middle school, the time that had really counted…had that been the dance at the other school? The one where they'd both pretended to be other people? She couldn't remember.

She wonders, watching Shawn shove his clothes into his bag and hand Peter the textbooks that don't fit into it anymore, if they'll be able to remember the 5 month mark clearly after they've been together a few more years.

Shawn tosses a pair of boxers out of his drawers and toward his bed with a little too much force. They hit Peter in the face. Both boys laugh, and Topanga realizes how much easier it is to imagine Shawn and Peter together in a few years, than it is to imagine her own future with Cory.

* * *

Cory stops side his door, makes his body still, and pulls in a long, slow breath.

_I am not going to spaz out_  he tells himself, holding the breath in his lungs, then letting it out just as slowly.  _I am going to be cool. I am going to be irresistible. Topanga is not going to be able to get back on that train on Sunday._

He digs his breath spray out of his pocket and sprays his tongue and the insides of his cheeks until his eyes water, then returns the spray to his pocket and opens the door.

He does not expect Peter and Shawn to still be there. They're sitting crosslegged on Shawn's bed, knee to knee, laughing uproariously.

"Albany poured her drink on him?" Shawn laughed. "Then what happened?"

Cory steps around the door, letting it fall behind him and bring Topanga, also flushed with laughter, into view.

"Then I poured my drink on him," Topanga crowed, sending Peter and Shawn into another round of guffaws. "So, he's sitting there, dripping in vodka cranberry, and I lean over," Topanga tilts to the side, one arm extended. "I took his Jack and Coke, and Albany and I go back to our table."

Shawn and Peter laugh, loudly, again.

Cory starts to feel a weird tingle along his spine. Topanga was out at a bar? Throwing her  _vodka_  cranberry on people?

"That's badass, Topanga," Peter laughs. Next to him, Shawn grabs his coat, Peter echoes. The two of them sling their bags over their shoulders, and Shawn picks up an unmarked, brown paper bag from the middle of the room. "Hey, maybe we should all get brunch together tomorrow?"

"Sure," Shawna agrees. "Double date at The Boar and Hen?"

Peter chuckles. "You and The Boar and Hen."

"I love that Harissa Omelette," Shawn answers stepping toward the door.

"I know you do."

"I mean, I  _love_ it," Shawn repeats. "Sometimes I think I love it more than I love you."

Peter play punches him in the side. "So yeah? Maybe 11?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Topanga agrees instantly. "Cory? How does that sound?"

Cory pulls in another breath, hiding it by fiddling with his bag. It wasn't part of his plan, but that was okay. "Great. Super great. " He looks up and gives Shawn as significant a look as he can manage. "We'll see you then."

Shawn glances at Peter, who gets the message just as easily. "Yeah. We'll see you guys then."

Cory locks the door after them when they've gone, and turns back to Topanga with a smile.

She smiles back. A makeup-less smile that he hasn't seen in a lot of years.

God he wants to kiss her.

Would that be pushing too hard? Kissing her while she's smiling at him from his bed?

No, that's insane. If they're going to have sex this weekend, he should feel like he can kiss her.

Right?

Unsure of what to do, he falls back on his plan.

"So, I thought I'd surprise you. I made us reservations at Tranche at 6:00. It's a very nice place. I don't understand half of what's on the menu, but most of the letters have accents over them."

Topanga bites her lip and looks down at herself. "Can I wear this?"

Cory also looks her over. "Do you have anything dressier?"

Topanga forces an awkward smile. "This is pretty much the nicest thing I have."

Cory forces his expression to freeze. This was not part of the plan. But it's not like it's a five star restaurant. What are they going to do? Throw her out?

"Yeah. I'm sure it's fine."

Topanga doesn't seem convinced, but she nods. Cory nods back.

This is all going to be fine.

* * *

Peter fiddles with his unappetizingly springy chicken breast, watching it wobble on its bed of rice, flecked with chopped vegetables.

"Hey, you okay?" Shawn asks. He presses the tongs of his fork gently against Peter's thumb.

"Yeah," Peter replied. "Just tired." It's true, because it's always true during basketball season, but it's not everything that's causing him to feel nervous.

"Okay," Shawn says. Peter can tell Shawn knows that it's not just fatigue, but they've had a pretty intimate day, and tonight is going to be fun and exciting, but just as intimate. Peter's not sure how exposed he can make himself today.

He stabs his fork into his chicken and reaches across the table. "I just… I guess I feel a little weird about tonight."

Shawn smirks. "You seemed pretty thrilled when we were picking out rope earlier."

Peter can't hide the shiver that runs through his body and down his outstretched hand. Shawn smirks again as Peter feels the tremor run through the hand that Shawn is holding.

"Uh. Yes. I…" Peter squirms. Shawn pins him down with those gorgeous green eyes.

"You can change your mind, you know," Shawn says quietly.

Peter's squirms are replaced with a leaden feeling in his stomach. "Have you?"

Shawn shrugs and squeezes Peter's hand. "No. It sounds like fun. I um…" Shawn's cheeks pink and he leans forward conspiratorily. "I've kind of been getting… excited about how excited you are." He already quiet voice gets lower. "I want to watch you enjoy it."

Peter swallows hard and feels his blood start to rush south. He clears his throat and tries to remember one of the points he's been thinking about all day. "That's… okay that's been bothering me all day. I asked you for a big fantasy right after I freaked out about yours. I feel bad."

Looking taken aback, Shawn blinks and squeezes Peter's hand. "Oh. Really?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?"

Shawn pulls his hand away so he can drink his ice tea. "Peter, if I didn't want to do this, I would have said no. It's a lot tamer fantasy than you seem to think, which is cute, and we've talked about this a couple times, but I sprang mine on you out of nowhere." Shawn gulps his tea. "So yeah. Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

"Okay." Shawn slots his hand back into Peters. "So, how do you think Cory and Topanga's night is going?"

* * *

Their reservation is in 20 minutes and Cory is still picking out a shirt. He'd had an entire outfit picked out, even ironed, but since Topanga didn't have clothes to match, he was trying to pick out something a little less dressy, so that she wouldn't look even more casual than she was.

"Cory, " Topanga starts, checking the time again. 19 minutes left. "I know you made a reservation, but I'm seriously okay with something more casual."

"No, it's fine. This isn't Barelli's. They don't' have a dress code or anything. I scoped the place out. You can wear that. It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

Topanga tries to keep her voice level at this. She doesn't want to let on how annoyed she is. She doesn't want to BE as annoyed as she is.

If going to a fancy restaurant was this important to Cory, why hadn't he asked her to bring a nice outfit? If she couldn't dress appropriately, why was it such a tragedy to go get a burger like they had done a thousand times?

"Topanga," Cory responds, finally starting to button up the latest shirt he's tried on and evaluated in the mirror. "I just want to give you a nice night. Okay? Nice conversation, nice French food in a nice setting. You know. Nice."

Her annoyance with him fades when she notices that Cory's fingers are trembling, just a little as he works the small shirt buttons into the buttonholes.

He's nervous.

Of course he's nervous. They haven't seen each other in two months. She asked him to leave her alone for nearly half that time. And… the potential she implied for tonight is a big deal.

Cory finishes with the buttons and turns to her. "How's this?"

It's a light green button up. He's wearing it with jeans. The jeans fit him well, very well, actually. The shirt pulls a little too tight across his shoulders, and is a little too loose around his waist.

And they have fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant.

"Very nice," Topanga answers.

They get to their six o'clock reservation at 6:10. Their table has been given away and there is a 45 minute wait for the next available one. It takes another 15 minutes for them to agree to wait at the bar and order an appetizer.

Topanga orders a glass of the restaurant's second least expensive Malbec. The bartender doesn't ask for her ID. Then he looks over at Cory and sees his eyes bugging out.

"And for the gentleman?"

Topanga gives Cory a look. The same sort of "be cool" look that Albany used to give her.

"Uhh… " Cory starts. Topanga recognizes the tone. It's the panicked tone that bursts out of Cory right before he (usually, alongside Shawn) gets caught just before pulling off some scheme.

"He'll have the same," Topanga cuts in smoothly.

The bartender looks from Topanga to Cory, then from Cory back to Topanga.

"Can I see your ID?"

Cory freezes. Topanga pulls her billfold out of her purse, slides her ID out of one of the flaps, and hands it to the bartender to inspect. He doesn't do more than glance at it, and doesn't ask for Cory's before going to get them glasses.

Topanga opens the bar only menu and glances over the small plate options. "The mini quiches look good," she says, as the bartender comes back, setting a glass of wine in front of both of them. Topanga thanks the bartender and takes a sip from her glass.

"Very nice," she comments, turning her attention back to the menu.

Cory doesn't reply.

"There's a mushroom pastry thing that also looks excellent."

When Cory still doesn't say anything, Topanga looks up from the menu. Cory looks totally shocked, as though he's just watched her murder someone.

Topanga smiles at him, lifts her glass, and takes another sip. Cory silently lifts his own glass and takes the sort of careful sip someone might take if they suspected their cup was filled with poison.

Cory nods. "Not what I expected." He takes another sip. "But not bad."

"So… mini quiche or mushroom pastry?"

"You chose a nice wine, you'll choose a nice appetizer," Cory tells her.

She orders the mushroom pastry with two sets of silverware.

"Soo…about the wine and ID," Cory starts.

Topanga turns toward him and waits for him to finish. He doesn't, so she answers the question he didn't ask.

"My roommate knows a guy who knows a guy. Albany and Xiao love going to shows and all the good bands only play twenty one plus venues. We were doing okay just sneaking in, but some underage girl snuck in, got really, really drunk and punched the bartender in the face, so they started checking IDs. Albany had a solution to that problem."

Cory nods again. Then again. And again, finally speaking as those this nodding has loosened the words enough to let them bob out of his throat. "When I got back to the dorm you were telling Peter and Shawn a story about dumping drinks on guys in bars."

Topanga looks into the deep red shimmer of her glass. "Cory, what are you trying to ask me?"

"Why don't I know this about you? Why didn't you want to tell me that you were out drinking and partying and being… not you?"

_Not you_.

Topanga takes a gulp from her wine glass.

* * *

There had been a moment, a pause, as they'd left the cafeteria, where they might have skipped dessert and gone back to Peter's room to tear open that bag of accouterments and move on to the main event.

A lot of their dinner-on-campus-dessert-off dates had gone that way, with a quickie inserted between the two pieces of the date. Considering how relieved and aroused Peter had been when Shawn had told him that his little peccadillo wasn't that big a deal, and sounded like it would be fun, Shawn's shocked that they've made it this long without going back up to Peter's room.

And he's just a little worried that they haven't. Peter's been quiet lately. He's not lying about being tired. Shawn knows that. Peter's been dealing with long class periods on top of long practices, with a lot less flexibility in his time.

But there's something else, Shawn can tell.

They're sitting together in their favorite spot at Violet's Café. A couch that was built on the strange, confused day between the sleek mod 60's style and the overstuffed garishly patterned 70's style. It's square and plump, with it's obscene green and blue paisley body held aloft by improbably spindly wooden legs. Shawn and Peter are pressed thigh to thigh, sharing a piece of flourless chocolate cake balanced on their knees.

There's a musician tonight. A mellow acoustic guitar player with a nice enough voice. He's nothing special, but he makes for pleasant background music.

Shawn lets Peter eat the last bite of cake, gently taps his knuckles against Peter's jaw as he chews, and smiles.

This is one of the first places they'd gone together. Before everyone had known the truth. Before Shawn could even say it out loud to himself.

"What are you grinning at?" Peter asks.

"I'm thinking about the first time you brought me here," Shawn tells him.

Peter's face splits into a grin. "Yeah?"

Shawn nods and points to the opposite corner where a pretty red head girl in hippie clothes and a skinny black kid in a wrinkled button up shirt are sitting in lumpy arm chairs, their clasped hands hanging in the space between the chairs.

"We sat there. And we ordered this cake," Shawn points his fork down at the now empty plate between them.

"And you wore a green t shirt," Peter added. "And you bitched about Cory."

Shawn laughs. "I did."

"You let me hold your hand in public for the first time," Peter adds.

Shawn sets their cake plate on the end table nearby and wriggles further down onto the couch. "And I was worried you'd think it was gross and clammy."

"It  _was_  gross and clammy," Peter laughed. "And I saw you rubbing your palms off on your jeans whenever I got up for something and you thought I wasn't looking."

"I was nervous," Shawn huffs.

Peter grins at him and Shawn lifts himself up enough to press a kiss to Peter's lips. He's not nervous now. Peter doesn't make him nervous, and neither does Violet's and neither does kissing his boyfriend in public.

Shawn slides his hand into Peter's, and is surprised to find it just as gross and clammy as his own was on that first night.

"Peter? Is everything okay?"

Peter pulls in a breath. Shawn feels a cold wriggle in his stomach.

"Yes," Peter answers.

"Peter-"

"I promise everything is okay," Peter says.

Shawn sits up and turns a little, so that he's facing Peter. "So why are you being weird?"

Peter scoffs. "I'm not being weird."

"Is this about tonight?" Shawn asks. "Are you nervous or something?"

Peter looks down at their hands. "No it's not about tonight. It's not a big deal. Everything is okay. You know I would tell you if something was wrong."

The cold feeling in Shawn stomachs kicks up a little… why isn't Peter looking at him?

Something is weird. And he doesn't want to just sit here and pretend to be listening to somebody who thinks they have a folk music career when things are weird between them.

He squeezes Peter's hand. "You want to head back to the dorms?"

 


	28. In Which Wine Is Drunk

"Peter? Is everything okay?"

 

Peter pulls in a breath. Shawn feels a cold wriggle in his stomach.

 

"Yes," Peter answers.

 

"Peter-"

 

"I promise everything is okay," Peter says.

 

Shawn sits up and turns a little, so that he's facing Peter. "So why are you being weird?"

 

Peter scoffs. "I'm not being weird."

 

"Is this about tonight?" Shawn asks. "Are you nervous or something?"

 

Peter looks down at their hands. "No, it's not about tonight. It's not a big deal. Everything is okay. You know I would tell you if something was wrong."

 

The cold feeling in Shawn stomachs kicks up a little… why isn't Peter looking at him?

 

Something is weird. And he doesn't want to just sit here and pretend to be listening to somebody who thinks they have a folk music career when things are weird between them.

 

He squeezes Peter's hand. "You want to head back to the dorms?"

 

Peter squeezes Shawn's hand back. "Okay. Yeah. Let's go back to the dorms."

 

As they walk back to the car, Shawn notices the wriggling cold in his stomach start to go away. Peter's hand, relaxed around his own, warms him. The steady beat of their footsteps against the pavement steadies the wriggle. His brain is telling him that he needs to keep his guard up, but the further they walk, toward Peter's car and the one free parking spot several blocks from the cafe, the more Shawn is realizing that even though he can tell something is off somewhere with Peter, it doesn't feel like a dangerous thing. The alarm going off in his head is just a smoke alarm in a too small hallway. Sure, there's smoke, but it's all under control. Peter loves him too much to lie to him about everything being okay. He knows how sacred Shawn needs him to make those word.s

 

So they walk back to Peter's car. Peter slides into the driver's seat, Shawn into the passengers. He leans forward when the car roars to life, and turns the radio on., hunting for a station that isn't playing commercials as Peter gets them out onto the main road. 

 

"So are you going to tell me why you are being so weird now?"

 

Peter lets out a strained sort of laugh. "I promise nothing is wrong."

 

"Peter-"

 

"Nothing is wrong, and I will tell you what's going on when we get back to the dorms, okay? I just… I didn't mean to be weird, and I just want to do it right. Okay?"

 

* * *

 

"Soo…about the wine and ID," Cory starts.

 

Topanga turns toward him and waits for him to finish. He doesn't, so she answers the question he didn't ask.

 

"My roommate knows a guy who knows a guy. Albany and Xiao love going to shows and all the good bands only play twenty one plus venues. We were doing okay just sneaking in, but some underage girl snuck in, got really, really drunk and punched the bartender in the face, so they started checking IDs. Albany had a solution to that problem."

 

Cory nods again. Then again. And again, finally speaking as those this nodding has loosened the words enough to let them bob out of his throat. "When I got back to the dorm you were telling Peter and Shawn a story about dumping drinks on guys in bars."

 

Topanga looks into the deep red shimmer of her glass. "Cory, what are you trying to ask me?"

 

"Why don't I know this about you? Why didn't you want to tell me that you were out drinking and partying and being… not you?"

 

Not you.

 

Topanga takes a gulp from her wine glass. Throughout the whole hiatus she had asked Cory for, she had been telling herself, and asking her friends to remind her, that Cory didn't get to make her feel guilty for enjoying her life at Yale. 

 

"I'm not being me," Topanga repeats, in the most neutral tone she could manage. "How am I not being me, exactly?"

 

Cory's eyebrows manage to go up even higher on his head, a sure harbinger of doom. Even worse, they don't come back down. "The things I just said! The drinking and partying."

 

"It's not like I'm hanging out a frat party window topless in the middle of a Monday afternoon, Cory. It's college. People throw parties. You hang out, you meet people, you have a couple drinks. It's what people do. Shawn's gone to a few parties and he doesn't even drink."

 

"Shawn's dating a jock!" Cory counters. "You're… you counted A's and intimidated Feeny into giving you another one on an ungraded peice of homework just so you could be valedictorian. What is that girl doing throwing vodka cranberries on… men in bars?"

 

Topanga taps her fingers against her wine glass. She had said very nearly the exact same words to Albany right after that had happened. But she'd been tipsy and laughing and loving the fact that she'd gone so far out of the lines. Albany's response had been "Bitch, this is Yale, we were all the Valedictorian."

 

"What part of that is the part that bothers you so much, Cory? The vodka, the bar, or the men?"

 

"Topanga, I'm not really thrilled about any of it. I mean… a fake ID? That's not you, that's… Shawn."

 

"It's not like I'm going out and getting wasted. I have homework, I have classes, but sometimes, Albany and Xiong and Terry and Sanjay and I like to go blow off steam. We dance, we listen to loud music, we stay out late, and yes— we have a drink or two. It's college."

 

"Is this what you wanted me to be out doing every time you told me I needed to go out and experience college?" 

 

"Cory, I just wanted you to acknowledge that we weren't in high school anymore. I wanted you to try new things. I wanted you to…" 

 

She stops herself. She wants to say 'grow up'. I wanted you to grow up. 

 

"To what?"

 

She takes a sip from her wine glass and cuts another bite of her mushroom pastry. It's already cold. "Cory… we both know that you can get set in your ways, and we've had a couple ruts as a couple. I'm exploring a lot in Connecticut. I just wanted you to try doing the same thing."

 

Cory looks from her face down to the table, and Topagna realizes she can catalogue every single change in his expression. The way his eyebrows crease show that he's hurt. The ways his mouth pinches is annoyance. The amount that his eyelids are open is fear. 

 

Cory looks up at her, and a for a moment Topanga is sure that he knows what she's thinking about his face. He grabs his own glass of wine, and takes several gulps of it. "Why didn't you talk to me for three weeks?" 

* * *

 

 

When they get back to his dorm, Peter grabs his laptop and sits down on his bed. Shawn sits down next to him as Peter types something in, and taps the track pad a couple times. Finally, with a sigh that rattles slightly in his chest, Peter moves the laptop over, so that one corner of it is on his knee, the other is on Shawn's.

 

On the screen is a picture of a nice living room. It's painted bright blue, a rumpled futon with a green blanket thrown over it sits beneath a large picture window, a snow covered tree visible through the glass. 

 

"What do you think?" Peter asks. 

 

"It's nice," Shawn replies. He's missing something.

 

Peter taps the track pad again. "Right? And here's the kitchen. And the bedroom. Onsite laundry. Balcony."

 

Another cold wriggle, this one suspicion rather than worry, starts in Shawn's stomach. "Why are you showing me this, Peter?"

 

Peter taps his fingers against the laptop. "A guy on the team is graduating at the end of J-term. He's got a job offer in Seattle, he's moving and he's looking for someone to sublet his one bedroom. As soon as possible."

 

Shawn looks away from his screen and up at Peter's face. He's pale, except for the bright pink spots on his cheeks. His eyes are perfectly round and so brightly blue. 

 

"I mean… yeah. It would be really great if you had your own place," Shawn says. He's not sure why Peter would run this past him. They've both spent most of the last few months complaining about how hard it is to get a room to themselves. "If you can afford it, it seems perfect."

 

Peter swallows hard, and clears his throat. "It's cheap. Really cheap. And close to campus. Jason says there's some sort of issue with it, like the a fire code thing so they technically can't rent it out, so it sort of passes from student to student under the table… I thought we could split it."

 

"Split it," Shawn repeats. 

 

"Split the rent. Like… because you lived there too. With me."

 

The meaning behind Peter's words moves slowly from Shawn's ears through his brain. It's not that he doesn't understand what Peter's asking, but the question is so huge, what it means is so massive that Shawn can't find a way to react. 

 

"You don't have to answer right now," Peter splutters. "I know it's big, and I know it's fast and I'm sprinting it on you out of nowhere. And if you don't want to, that's completely okay. Really. I would get it. But I just… I think it would be really great. And I looked it all up, and it's way cheaper than the dorms, and it's less than a block from a bus that runs every fifteen minutes and would drop us off right on campus, and there's a little bodega across the street. It's a Lebanese bodega. Stuffed Grape leaves. Whenever you want."

 

Shawn becomes aware that his jaw is hanging open. He can't help it. Peter is looking at him like he's holding his heart between his hands and that's even more overwhelming than the fact that Peter just asked if Shawn wants to move in together. 

 

"Oh my god, say something." 

 

It takes a couple tries before any actual sound comes out of Shawn's mouth. "This is what was on your mind? This is why you were being weird?"

 

Peter just nods. 

 

"Wow. Um… I…"

 

The thing is Shawn can picture it. Making dinner in the little kitchen. Drinking cocoa under that green blanket on the futon. Peter being there when he goes to sleep and when he wakes up. Studying together at the kitchen island. A perfect little life in the nicest place he's ever lived. He wants to do it. That feeling from earlier, the feeling that told him not to worry about his stupid brain telling him to keep his guard up is back, and it's suffusing his whole body and it doesn't care that they've barely been together for five months. It wants him to say yes. It's telling him that he's so close to having that perfect golden safety and love that he'd always believed Topanga and Cory had… but his would be real. With a lease and a queen sized mattress and a sock drawer full of tube socks and a learning how to cook. Not just boring dates they were too young for while they did all their high school shit. 

 

Building a life together. 

 

But it doesn't quite drown out his cynicism. 

 

"I need to think about this," Shawn finally manages. "Not because I don't want to, I just—"

 

"No, I get it. I totally get it," Peter said. "I wasn't expecting you to just dive right in. It's big. And I know you might have to talk to financial aid, and maybe look at your classes and a meal plan and what not. We can talk about it more, anything you think we need to know first. We've got until next week before Jason starts advertising it. I just…" He doesn't say anything. He just bites his lip, smiles, and squeezes Shawn's hand.

 

"Yeah," Shawn answers, squeezing back. 

 

They look at each other for a second, then laugh and look down at their hands. 

 

"I'm sorry," Peter finally says, pulling his hand away. He closes the computer and sets it on his nightstand. "Jason told me about it yesterday and I couldn't stop thinking about it today and I was weird and I kind of ruined the whole, like, sexy vibe that tonight was supposed to be about."

 

"No," Shawn tells him. "No. We can still… I mean if you want to?"

 

"Yeah, if you're still into it I still really want to."

 

Shawn sets his hand to Peter's neck, and kisses him, but pulls away when Peter tries too soon to open the kiss wide. "Umm, you know what? I do kind of need a reset before I can get back into a sexy mood. Give me like, five minutes?"

 

"Yeah, of course."

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Of Safe Words and Safety Schools Part One

 

"Why didn't you talk to me for three weeks?" Cory asks. 

 

He watches Topanga across the table. The way the corners of her mouth pinch and the way her beautiful blue eyes seem to dim as they stare down at the space between the two of them. 

 

A few tight, spiky moments pass before Topanga finally looks up at him with a sigh. "A lot of reasons, Cory."

 

"What reasons, Topanga? What was your reason for just… muting me in your life for that long?"

 

For a moment, she doesn't answer. She taps her fingers on her wine glass, takes a sip and sets then glass down. Then she folds her hands in her lap and looks up at Cory. "Cory… we've been having the same conversation over and over again on a loop since school started. We talk about school and we don't connect, so we talk about Shawn and Feeny. I talk about my friends and you get their names confused, except for Terry and Sanjay, who you get a little jealous of for no reason other than that they're men. and then we talk about the next time we're going to see each other." 

 

"Okay. So... I'm boring you?"

 

"No, Cory, it's not that. I wasn't getting bored, I was getting depressed. After every call I would just be… sad. Either you would make me feel bad because… I wasn't there to help you study, or I would feel guilty that you and Shawn were fighting and you were lonely while I was out meeting new people and having fun. I didn't want to tell you about the good things happening to me when you were struggling, and I could tell you didn't always want to tell me how bad things were, and every time we started making plans to see each other that didn't quite pan out I felt like you just… doubled down. You called more, you gripped tighter and… calling you, and then feeling bad about the conversation, and then trying to find the time to come see you, and then calling you and feeling bad that it wasn't going to work out and then worrying about how you were taking the conversation just… started to feel like it was taking over my life."

 

Cory can tell that she's been rehearsing this speech. It's clean and paced well and her voice wobbles a little as she speaks but her hands don't. His hands are starting to though. He moves them from the table top into his lap. 

 

"Cory… You know we have a history of getting into ruts. I hated _that_ rut. I wanted to break the cycle, and… to be totally honest with you… I just didn't have the mental or emotional battery to get through that rut and finals at the same time. And I didn't think you did either, so I just made the call. It wasn't about getting away so much as just breaking a bad habit. And look at the last three weeks and tell me that wasn't the right move? You seem more relaxed, you went out you had fun. Right?"

 

"Yeah. Topanga. Yeah. I went out. I started doing yoga with Feeny and getting coffee with Shawn and Peter and I studied my butt off but… I didn't do all those things because you weren't… distracting me anymore. I did all those things because I missed you so much. I was doing whatever it took to make those three weeks without you go by faster."

 

"And I missed you too, Cory."

 

"Just not enough to pick up a phone and tell me all this a month ago and have a real conversation about it?"

 

Across the table, Topanga pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. She's biting down on it hard enough that Cory can see the little white line that forms under her teeth. "Cory… what do you think we're doing now?"

 

* * *

 

 

Shawn spends his five minute reset in the bathroom, on his phone, looking at rope bondage porn, but thinking about sharing an apartment They're both pretty intense trust exercises, when you think about it. He's shocked at how all it took for him to not be thinking about it at all, to him wanting it desperately, was for Peter to offer it. Shawn knows that if he went back into Peter's room and just said yes, they could start picking out curtains right now and it would all be okay. 

 

But, like Peter said, there are logistics. Meal plans, financial aid, figuring out Pennbrooke's requirements for freshman living. Even if he does go tell Peter 'yes', he has to talk to at least three members of the administration before that yes becomes official.

 

And Cory. 

 

He's not ready to think about that piece yet, and he he has more practice pushing away thoughts about Cory than anything else. So he does. With a deep sigh, he _just stops worrying_ about the future. He turns it off as easy as flipping a switch and he goes back to Peter's room, laughing when he opens the door. 

 

Peter has turned off the light and lit three candles.Something that smells a little like a window cleaner boasting some sort of all natural scent is light on the air. 

 

"Candles, huh?" Shawn asks. 

 

"I was hoping they would help you get back into a sexy mood."

 

Shawn takes his shirt off and drops it behind him as he crosses the room. "It's working."

 

* * *

 

 

"Just not enough to pick up a phone and tell me all this a month ago and have a real conversation about it?"

 

Across the bar, Topanga pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. She's biting down on it hard enough that Cory can see the little white line that forms under her teeth. "Cory… what do you think we're doing now?"

 

Cory opens his mouth to reply. To spit back some accusation, or recrimination or something that won't make it clear to Topanga how hurt he is, and, just like with Shawn, will only make things worse. He shuts his mouth, takes a deep breath and, like he's learned to do in the last few weeks, pushes the emotion down.  "Okay," Cory says. "Okay. You're right. Let's… have a real adult conversation."

 

Topanga's reaction is a mix of relief and surprise, but she covers it quickly. 

 

"Okay. Do you want to start?" Topanga asks. 

 

"Yeah. I do. You didn't tell me that when you asked to take a break. I had no idea why you decided to put a pause on our relationship, and I have been worried you were going to break up with me after finals. And I was worried there was another guy. Or that something terrible had happened. Or that you were… I don't know. Going to study abroad for a year some place with spotty internet service."

 

"Okay," Topanga replied. "That spiraling thing you just did? That's why I asked to just put things on hold during finals instead of try to have this conversation. I felt like you would challenge me on every point I wanted to make, and every conversation would get harder, and I wouldn't feel listened to."

 

"Wouldn't feel listened to? Topanga, I always listen to you."

 

"No, Cory, you don't. You correct me. I say something like 'Maybe Shawn is feeling alienated from you because you guys don't have the time to hang out like you used to' and you tell me that he's trying to recreate that fake college experience from last year, or that he's having trouble with his brother being reintroduced into his life, or whatever."

 

"To be fair, one of the things I threw out there was that Shawn was having his yearly identity crisis and eventually he would be himself again and everything would be fine."

 

Topanga sighs and sits back in her chair. "Right, fine, but like… you understand that is condescending and limiting right? That you expect Shawn and other people to always revert to square one?"

 

"Is Shawn exactly who he was at the beginning of the year Topanga?"

 

"Yes, he is. He is the same person, who went through a new experience. Being happy and feeling safe and finding someone who can help him deal with a lifetime of abandonment issues didn't make him a different person, he's still Shawn, but he's Shawn who went through something and grew."

 

"See, that's just semantics, Topanga. You and Shawn both treat me like I can't accept any kind of change, ever. I understand that people grow. I understand that Shawn grew, I understand that you want to grow, I even, despite what everyone seems o think about me, understand that I need to grow too. It's harder for me than for you and Shawn. I'm aware of that. But the real problem," Cory feels his throat start to constrict here. "Is that the two most important people in my life, always seem to step away from me in order to grow. You and Shawn are both always running off ahead, and I… end up chugging along, missing you until you come back to me." 

 

He picks up his own wine glass, trying to gulp down the lump forming in his throat. "And this year, you both… physically left. You went to Yale, and Shawn was off with Peter, andI was _physically stuck_ , in my room, with my books, struggling to keep up."

 

* * *

 

"Ready?" Peter whispers. 

 

Shawn shivers at the way his boyfriend's lips tickle across his neck. "Yes. Yes. I'm ready."

 

Peter laughs, kisses his neck, and sits back on his haunches. He grabs the four lengths of rope from the corner of the bed where they'd set them after carefully untying and uncoiling them earlier. He gives Shawn a coy smile and drags the end of a rope across Shawn's bare stomach. Shawn's cock jumps at the tease. 

 

He'd rolled his eyes at Peter more than once during the many talks they'd had about this moment, telling Peter that they didn't need to plan every little detail, while Peter huffed and rebutted that he just wanted to make sure they had boundaries set and that everything was safe and consensual and nothing would go off the rails and ruin the experience, and Shawn had countered that spontaneity was exciting. 

 

He'd lost that debate, and he's starting to be glad he did. Being able to fantasize about exactly what was going to happen in the lead up tonight had been fun, and now, underneathPeter, knowing that the loops Peter is wrapping around his wrists are going to be loose enough to shake off at first, and the loops around his feet aren't going to be tied to anything is letting the desire rip through his body, utterly unimpeded by nerves. 

 

Peter finishes the lose ties around Shawn's wrists, then leans down to kiss him deeply. "You remember the safe word?"

 

Shawn rolls his eyes. "Lay up. You dork."

 

Peter laughs again, and ties Shawn's wrists to the head of the bed. 

 

* * *

 

 

He picks up his own wine glass, trying to gulp down the lump forming in his throat. "And this year, you both… physically left. You went to Yale, and Shawn was off with Peter, andI was _physically stuck_ , in my room, with my books, struggling to keep up."

 

Topanga sighs and finishes her glass of wine. "You expected both of us to follow you, and that's not fair either."

 

"Topanga-"

 

"-No. You did. Remember that big weird fight you and Shawn got into about you interviewing with a college he couldn't get into? You thought he was being ridiculous, and when I finally got the two of you to talk to each other about it and pointed out that we all needed to think about what would happen if we got into different schools and said that I had applied to Miami, and you were shocked. You hadn't listened to me talk about that at all. You didn't freak out until that moment in Feeny's office. And you flipped out when Shawn was thinking about taking a year off, or not even going to school. You thought we were just going to do whatever you did. It didn't even occur to you that we wouldn't."

 

"We had all talked about Pennbrooke. We were all applying to Pennbrooke."

 

"Yes, Cory, we talked about it, but that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that you had no right to expect that we would all go to Pennbrooke just because you were going there." 

 

"Another glass, miss?" The bartender asks, pointing to the empty one at Topanga's elbow. 

 

"Yes, thank you."

 

 Cory doesn't want to fight. He wants to have a discussion. Topanga's right, this is the rational, adult conversation they should have been having all along. And she is clearly working hard to keep her tone modulated and her voice down. In fact, she's so calm that the calm in her voice has made him overlook what she just said. 

 

"Wait— did you even apply to Pennbrooke?" Cory asks.  

 

Topanga goes still for a moment, then purses her lips. "No. I didn't."

 

"You didn't even _apply_?"

 

"No. I didn't. I applied to the University of Pennsylvania. And I did tell you that."

 

"Right, I remember that. I'm not a complete jerk. Did you get in?"

 

"Yes," Topanga replies. "I did."

 

Cory grabs his own elbow and squeezes. "So you got into an Ivy League school— in Philadelphia?"

 

"Yes, Cory I did."

 

"And did you ever consider going to a college in the same city I was going to college?" 

 

"Where would you have wanted me to go to school if you had gotten into Stanford? Or NYU?" Topanga shot back, her voice finally starting to rise. 

 

"I figured you could get into Stanford or NYU, and we'd experience moving to a new state together. Maybe get an apartment together eventually."

 

"And in that scenario what was Shawn doing?"

 

"They have state schools in California and New York."

 

"Did you ever think about how hard it would be for him to pay out of state tuition versus in state?"

 

Cory scoffs. He doubts Topanga thought about either until just now as she started to argue the point. "Don't pull that card on me, Topanga. You're family is paying for you to go to and Ivy League school, don't play Mother Teresa over Shawn's tuition. Answer the question: Did you even think about going to Penn?"

 

"Cory—"

 

"Did you ever—"

 

"No!" She finally shouts. "I didn't. Because I got accepted to Dartmouth first."

 

* * *

 

They've both already come and are warming up for the second round by the time Shawn's wrist restraints are tight around his wrists and completely immobilizing his arms above his head. "That was awesome," Shawn pants, as Peter grins, straddles his hips and starts to move up Shawn's torso. 

 

"It's gonna get so much better sweetheart. I promise." Peter hovers over Shawn's chest, not quite settling his weight down against Shawn's breastbone as Peter strokes his own cock.

 

"Tell me," Shawn demands. "Tell me how you're gonna fuck me."

 

Peter grins, and brings his hips forward, pressing his cock against Shawn's lips. Shawn takes as much of it into his mouth as he can manage at this angle, and closes his eyes as he works his tongue over the head and Peter stutters out a description of how he's going to tie up Shawn's legs and use his fingers until Shawn is begging for more and then fuck him to at least two more orgasms before he he unties Shawn. 

 

It's just a little too much, Shawn cranks his head to the side, spitting Peter's cock out to make sure he still has some control in this position without his hands. Peter pets his hair while he gasps. 

 

"You okay? Need anything?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine, just needed some air," Shawn replies before taking Peter's cock back into his mouth. After a few moments and a groan, Peter shifts his hips back, grabs the lube off the nightstand and starts to kiss his way back down Shawn's body. 

 

* * *

 

"Cory—"

 

"Did you ever—"

 

"No!" She finally shouts. "I didn't. Because I got accepted to Dartmouth first."

 

The bartender, unnoticed by them both, coughs. He's holding a fresh glass of wine, in a decidedly apologetic way. Topanga reaches up and takes it from him with an embarrassed word of thanks.

 

"You didn't tell me that you got into Dartmouth."

 

"I was trying to figure out how to soften the blow of telling you that I was looking at a college six hours away. And while I was trying to figure out what to say I got into Cornell, which is four hours away. And while I was trying to tell you that, I got into Princeton and I decided I was definitely going there. Ivy League school, fanatic programs, fantastic alumni network and it's only 45 minutes away. I was looking up cute date spots in Burlington. I found us a burger joint and a movie theater, and I was putting down a deposit on a fall foliage tour."

 

"So you could have gone to Penn State, an Ivy League school 15 minutes away from where we're sitting, but didn't because you got into a school six hours away, you got into progressively closer schools before all but finalizing going to a school we could have driven too in less time than we've been sitting here, but ultimately decided to go to a school three hours away, and not bring your car, so you were a five hour train trip away. Then once you got there, you decided to never come back to Philly, and keep telling that you were too busy for me to drive up?"

 

"Cory, that school was Yale. I got into Yale! I'm busy because I'm too busy to take weekends off to take the train to Philadelphia because I'm going to Yale. I have clubs and activities and study groups that meet on weekends. At Yale."

 

Cory clenches and unclench his jaw. "So… what are you saying? You're too good for me now? Because you go to Yale?"

 

Topanga recoils like he just hit her. 

 

"I'm sorry," he says immediately. "I'm sorry."

 

"Cory… I didn't say that. And I don't think that, and I've never thought that… but I don't know how you expect this to work… for us to work if you can't respect my ambition and the things I'm working toward. If you expect me to skip out on my classes and my homework to sit at Chubbies… maybe I should just leave now. Because I'm not planning on settling anytime soon."

 

Cory's throat goes tight. Tears spring to his eyes. "No. No you're right. I'm sorry. You're right."

 

 

 


	30. Of Safe Words and Safety Schools Part Two

 

Cory clenches and unclench his jaw. "So… what are you saying? You're too good for me now? Because you go to Yale?"

 

Topanga recoils like he just hit her. 

 

"I'm sorry," he says immediately. "I'm sorry."

 

"Cory… I didn't say that. And I don't think that, and I've never thought that… but I don't know how you expect this to work… for us to work if you can't respect my ambition and the things I'm working toward. If you expect me to skip out on my classes and my homework to sit at Chubbies… maybe I should just leave now. Because I'm not planning on settling anytime soon."

 

Cory's throat goes tight. Tears spring to his eyes. "No. No you're right. I'm sorry. You're right." He looks around the restaurant, and realizes that everything about this is wrong. This is the kind of date he would have taken Topanga out on in high school.  Somewhere that sounded fancy, but affordable, that she didn't want to go to. 

 

He's been working so hard lately to accept that he's in a new period of his life… but had been so easy for him to fall back into old habits. And the worst part was that he is, as Topanga tightens her jaw again, looks down at the table and wraps her arms around her chest, he's realizing that he did this on purpose. 

 

The restaurant is too quiet for a private conversation. Too expensive for a fight. He brought her here to stop her from having this conversation with him… and it's a conversation they need to have. If he doesn't want to lose her forever— lose the love of his life forever… everything has to change. 

 

God he hates change.

 

He digs his wallet out of his coat, and puts out enough cash to cover what they've already ordered on the table..

 

"Let's go somewhere where we can talk."

* * *

 

They leave the restaurant. They turn the radio up a little too loud on the car ride. They don't talk. They go to a grocery store. Cory grabs popcorn, crackers, and a bottle of cheap Cabernet Sauvignon. Topanga grabs two boxes of grocery store sushi, a couple mini samples of fancy cheese and a bag of peanut M&Ms. 

 

They take it all back to the dorms. Topanga grabs the blanket off of Cory's bed, and lays it out over the floor. Cory grabs the two plastic tumblers and two flamingo print plates that represent half the dishes that he and Shawn collectively own, and sets them out on the blanket. Topanga divides out the sushi, the crackers, and the cheese. Cory pours the wine into the tumblers, then pours a selection of peanut M&Ms into what had previously been the plastic cover thing from a pack of batteries that Shawn had bought. 

 

Topanga watches him with an emotion that is mostly fondness. 

 

She loves Cory. They never had a fiery, tumultuous stage like Shawn and Angela did. Even with everything that happened with Lauren in senior year, they'd loved each other in a quiet, deep way. She'd forgiven him, even with her heart breaking, because she loved him. They'd loved each other with the warmth of a fireplace on a winter night. 

 

She loves that Cory is not flashy or impressive, he's steady as a rock. He has anchors himself on his absolute certainty of how things should be. Shawn has always been a river, constantly on the move, flooding and drying with the season, quiet surface belying the true strength of the current. For years, she had wondered how the two of them were so close. Until she'd realized. Shawn needed a constant to come back to. Cory loved being that constant. And even the stillest, slowest, shallowest stream can change rock. 

 

Topanga isn't a rock. And she isn't a river. She doesn't know what she is…but her life is changing. Every day that goes by the things that used to be important to her in high school become less important. The image of who she wanted to grow up to be changes. Something new and exciting will catch her for a moment, and she'll be consumed by it, then hop to the new thing. 

 

And with Cory in another city, too far to see everyday, too busy to call everyday… she's been living without a rock, with out anything anchoring her… and she loves that too.

 

"You're right," Cory sighs. "This is better than a stuffy restaurant."

 

"Very college," Topanga agrees. She grabs her cup and takes a very small sip of wine. She's already had two glasses, it's rare for her to have more in an evening and she's feeling the effects. No matter what happens next, she doesn't want to be… impaired. She sets the wine aside, plucks a sushi roll of her plate and puts a little wasabi on it. 

 

"But… umm," Cory starts. Topanga tries to prompt him with a quirked eyebrow. "The food there was cooked."

 

It's such a Cory thing to say. Topanga's surprised at the sudden warmth in her heart as Cory picks up a sushi roll and gives it a suspicious look. 

 

"Just try it. It's good," she laughs.

 

He puts way too much soy sauce on it, tentatively taps it against the wasabi and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. 

 

 "Oh. Okay. Sort of… cold. But uh. Not as slimy as I thought it would be. I could maybe get used to this."

 

Topanga smiles at him, picks up one of the California rolls, puts a more appropriate amount of soy sauce on it and sets it on the plate in from of him. She takes a tuna roll for herself. 

 

Cory eats the California roll with great concentration,  then washes it down with some wine and grabs a handful of M&Ms.  "What should we do now?"

 

It's time to have the conversations they never have. It's time for them to deal with the weird limbo they're in. It's time to deal with the fact that they both have different dreams and expectations and that the perfect relationship they've been clinging too for so long isn't perfect enough to sail through everything life throws at it if they aren't going to talk to each other like adults.  They need to acknowledge reality. They need to acknowledge change. 

 

They need to realize that love isn't always enough. 

 

But Topanga needs a minute first.  "I am going to go freshen up, and then lets… put on some music and talk all night?"

 

Cory's eyes widen for a moment. His mouth goes a little rigid. "I'd like that," he says. 

 

* * *

 

Peter likes to talk a little dirty to Shawn in bed. They have an understanding that you can say anything you want, and it doesn't necessarily mean it's something you want to do, and the other person just has to say "no" if they don't like what you're saying. When that happens they talk about it afterward and everything is fine. Shawn still isn't quite ready to be on top, but sometimes they pretend he's going to be while they're getting in the mood. Since the lingerie incident, Shawn has told Peter a few times that he wants Peter to rip his panties off or come on his camisole, while wearing neither. They've pretended Shawn was tied up once or twice. It's a fun way to test things out. 

 

Shawn loves it. He loves the way Peter's voice gets breathier and breathier. How he can tell Peter's getting close when he starts to stutter and lose the thread of what he's saying. Peter's been chattier than usual tonight. He's kept up a more or less steady mix of "god you feel amazings" and "yeah, baby, just like thats". 

 

"Fuck, I love you," Peter gasps. He digs one hand under Shawn's head and holds him in a kiss, and repeats it again and again. 

 

"You too, I love you too, ah, fuck, so much. I love you so much," Shawn whines out in a reply shattered into gasps every time Peter thrusts into him again. 

 

His arms are tied to the head board tight enough that he can't move them. Each of his legs is held up under the knee with a loop of rope secured to the underside of Jeremy's bunk. He can't move, or pull away, he's given up control entirely. He's so vulnerable… and it feels awesome, in the full sense of the word. Naked, exposed and powerless, he feels like more of a vessel than a participant, but a vessel laying there, being filled with love and pleasure until he's over flowing..

 

"I'm gonna bend you over that futon," Peter huffs. 

 

"What futon?"

 

"In the apartment. I'm gonna come home, drop my stuff at the door, strip you naked, bend you over the futon and fuck you till you scream."

 

The electricity in Shawn's body cranks up higher than he thought it could. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna finger myself while you're sleeping. You're gonna wake up with me hard and wet and open right next to you." He replies

 

"All flush and beautiful and ready for me?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Fuck, Shawn."

 

Peter brings his arm between them, and starts to stroke Shawn's cock. Shawn shudders, then gasps and shudders again when he feels the way the rope keeps him from moving. 

 

"I'm gonna crawl under the kitchen table and suck you off while you're trying to study," Peter counters.

 

"I'm gonna get hard and walk into your morning shower all the time."

 

Shawn can feel the tight feeling in his balls, the heat in his belly and the tingling in his legs, all of it creeping up on him, warning him that another orgasm is about to rip through him, taunting him with the way it's going to blast through him while he's tethered to the bed, that he's going to try to move and not be able to, and not be able to stop. 

 

"I'm want…" Peter gasps. He's getting close too. His eyes are mostly shut, his face is flush, his thrusting is getting erratic. "I'm gonna… I want… I want to make you breakfast."

 

"Peter," Shawn warns. He can feel it, he can feel how hard the orgasm is going hit him. He's going to fucking explode.

 

"I want… I want to come home to you."

 

"Peter, I'm gonna—"

 

And then the dorm room door crashes open. 

 

* * *

 

Once, when Cory had been home sick, he'd spent the day watching nature documentaries. He'd been running a high fever, and didn't remember much about them, but he did remember how, when the film went to slow motion, you could see that the creatures about to be eaten, flinched just before a crocodile popped out of the water, or a lioness emerged from the brush. 

 

There was always a split second where the animal knew they were about to become prey. 

 

And when Topanga looked up at him, and suggested they talk all night, Cory could feel the prey instinct over come him. 

 

When the door closed behind her, he was already jumping up, already acting on instinct, and not for a moment bothering to interrogate that instinct. He bolted over to Shawn's nightstand and yanked the drawer open. 

 

"Love notes, personal lubricant… okay… more lubricant." The panic breaks  for just long enough for Cory to wonder why Shawn has so many nearly empty lubricant bottles, and then realize the answer. And then he sees it, the metallic glint at the back of the drawer. "Yes, condom!" He drives his hand into the drawer and grabs it. 

 

It's an empty wrapper .

 

He drops it back in the drawer, slams the drawer shut, and runs out into the hallway, toward the stair case, taking the stairs two at a time.  

 

He knows Topanga, he knows the look on her face. He knows that pause in her voice and he's heard it before. 

 

This, right now, is his crocodile under the surface moment. 

 

Tonight was always going to be fragile. Cory wasn't stupid, or naive enough not to have seen that. But now it's fragile and high stakes. He can just feel it. They haven't grown too far apart yet.  They haven't said anything they couldn't take back yet. He's already made a couple missteps, but he can tell by the way that Topanga is smiling at him that she wants things to be okay. 

 

But it's the first time he has ever really doubted that things are going to turn out fine. It's the first time he can imagine Topanga leaving him. He can see tonight going all wrong. He can see himself saying the wrong thing, or not hearing what Topanga says to him and watching someone he's spent his entire life with walk out the door for good.

 

But they aren't there quite yet. There's still a version of tonight where they talk, and they work through everything that's wrong. And maybe after that he just holds her while they listen to music. Or maybe they talk all night and go walk around in the sparkling moonlit snow and  watch the sunrise in a little cafe over scones. Or maybe tonight brings them closer together than ever and Cory finally focuses on Topanga the way she has been asking for and he makes love to her and they promise again to be together for the rest of their lives. 

 

What ever tonight brings, he needs to be prepared. No more fumbles, no more outbursts. Everything is going to have to be perfect from here. 

 

He reaches Peter's door and throws it open without thinking. 

 

And then his only thought is "butts". After a moment, the thought is "moaning," and "rope?" and "what the hell?" Before he finally slaps his hand over his eyes. 

 

"Matthews? What the fuck are you doing here?" Peter nearly screams.

 

It's an ill timed moment for Cory to let out a pent-up and fomenting resentment. "Lock your fucking door for once!"

 

"This is my-" Peter started, but was cut off  by Shawn's ragged gasping, "Peter! Don't move. Oh god, please don't move! Cory, what? What the fuck is it?"

 

"Condom. I need a condom."

 

Peter groans something indeterminate, but also clearly offensive. 

 

"Nightstand! In the nightstand," Shawn manages in the same strangled voice. "Just hurry and then get the fuck out."

 

Cory rushes forward, eyes still covered until he trips over a shoe, then he dives forward toward the nightstand, so he is kneeling at the same level as Peter's bed, and trying very hard to ignore Shawn— tied up— on his back— with Peter very obviously still inside him. He can hear Peter gasping, like he's been running. Shawn is muttering "come on come on come on" over and over again, and nearly sounds like he's crying until, just as Cory digs his hand into the drawer and pulls out two condoms, Shawn yells, and shudders. Once, then twice, and again as Cory runs back out the door, slamming it behind him. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Shit, shit," Peter groans as Shawn feels the last of his own orgasm wring out of him and melts down into the bed with a groan. "Shawn I'm sorry. I have to, I have-"

 

"It's fine. It's okay."

 

Shawn can't even pretend to be anything but exhausted and wrung out as Peter hurries to finish inside him. He hangs limply in his bonds, eyes closed, listening to Peter huff, his knees swinging slightly as Peter thrusts into him faster and faster, before coming with a yelp and sinking down against him, huffing warm breath against Shawn's chest. 

 

It's several moments before Peter hauls himself up and unties Shawn, before collapsing back down onto him. 

 

"We have got to start locking the fucking door," Peter groans into Shawn's neck. 

 

Shawn buries his nose in Peter's hair and laughs. Peter snorts. 

 

And it gets away from them. They lay together, sweaty and naked and holding each other, laughing until they shake.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm gonna be real with you all, this chapter was crazy hard to write, because at the beginning of a previous chapter, which I wrote in 2014, it is promised in Shawn's narration that Cory bursts into the room while he and Peter are having sex. I do not remember where I was going with that, and I couldn't find any of my notes, and the story is going in a slightly different direction than it was going 3 years ago... so here we all are)


	31. Of Safe Words and Safety Schools Part Three

 

Cory leaves Peter's room with the condom clutched in his palm. He lurches toward the end of the hallway, but at the last moment can't face going back downstairs, and ducks into the bathroom. He staggers to the last sink, and braces himself against it with one hand. 

 

"Okay. Okay, Cory. Come on. Come on, Topanga's going to be back in the room any second now." He blows out a steadying breath, stands up straight and takes his hand off the sink, but can't get his feet to move. And it begins to dawn on him that the feeling of dread that he's been holding onto for months, that heaviness in his gut that he's had ever since Topanga left for Yale, is the worst it's ever been. Standing here, after she came down to see him, after they finally starting trying to be totally honest and transparent with each other, he has never been more convinced that his relationship is over. He spent his last dash of hope bursting into Peter's room to get a condom. 

 

The bathroom door opens. Cory barely registers the sound, or the soft pat of the shower sandals moving behind him. But he does realize that it's Shawn's reflection in the mirror beside him. 

 

Shawn is pink, shiny with sweat, wearing his bathrobe and carrying his shower caddy. His worried face pinches in a little bit, with something like resolve. He moves forward, drops his shower caddy in the sink and settles back against the wall that divides the sink area from the showers. 

 

"I'm sorry I ruined your… umm… whatever you were doing," Cory finally manages. 

 

Shawn leans against the wall. "We were… experimenting. For fun. And I'm willing to ignore the fact that you barged in on a moment I would've preferred stay between me and my boyfriend as longs you promise to remember that Peter would never hurt me, and you don't get to be weird about it."

 

Cory wants to make a joke, or say something reassuring about being on board with who Shawn chooses to date and what they choose to do together while dating, but there's no way for him to say anything that won't instantly reveal to Shawn, who knows him better than anyone, that Cory's own night is an unholy disaster. 

 

He nods. He stays silent. But he can tell by the way Shawn's expression shifts in the mirror that Shawn has realized that something's wrong. 

 

Shawn clears his throat. "You know, when you busted in demanding a condom right that second… I assumed it was because you needed to run downstairs and put it to immediate use."

 

"I panicked," Cory admitted. "Topanga went to the bathroom to freshen up and realized that I didn't have condoms and we were on this weird edge where I thought… this is it. Tonight we either do this or she breaks up with me." Cory finally meets Shawn's eyes in the mirror. "She's going to break up with me. If I go downstairs, she is going to break up with me."

 

Shawn drops his gaze to the ground. After a moment, he tightens his robe around his waist. "And if she did break up with you… is that worse than what's happening now?"

 

Cory turns to look at Shawn, further surprised to see that Shawn mostly just looks sad. 

 

"Look… Cory. When you and Topanga broke up over Lauren, you still only had good things to say about her. You talked about how smart and wonderful she was, and how sad you were over what you'd lost. But since she went to Yale… all you do is complain about her. You complain about how she doesn't have time for you. You get weird about the fact that a couple of her new friend are guys. You seem to resent the new things she's tried, like when she was in the fall play. The only time you ever seem excited is when you talk about like… getting to touch her bra. That's…" Shawn sighs and digs his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

 

"Look, I  just… lately I've …" He sighs again, sounding defeated more than anything else. "Look, Cory, you know how much I believed in you and Topanga. You are the only constant in my life. And for the last few years you and Topanga seemed so… permanent. I really, really fucking needed something permanent. And I didn't have it. But now… Look. I've been in love a couple times now. And so much has changed for me in the last couple of months that I feel like I have a ton of space between who I was in high school and who I was now. I needed your relationship last year. I needed to believe in it. So just… listen to what I'm about to say: Is it possible, that you and Topanga have let yourself be more in love with your relationship, than you are with each other?"

 

Cory hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper before he realizes that his crushing the condom in his fist. 

 

Shawn looks down at Cory's fist, and purses his lips. 

 

Cory takes a deep breath. 

 

No. 

 

His first instinct is to defend his and Topanga's history above all else. To lash out, to shut down any challenge. But Shawn isn't the only person with some distance between who he is now and who he was seven months ago, and Cory can finally feel the difference. The difference that won't let him take Shawn's support and patience for granted anymore.

 

But he can't think of anything to say. He throws the condom into the sink. "I love her, Shawn."

 

"I'm not saying you don't but… I've listened to you talk about how you and Topanga are going to be together forever. And I just… I know I'm coming at this from a weird angle… but I can't stop thinking about you and Lauren."

 

"Fuck, Shawn, please don't tell me you think I should have left Topanga for some fucking ski-bunny."

 

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying Lauren blew up the way you saw yourself. Suddenly the world of dating and love and the future was bigger than just Topanga. You kept saying it, over and over "How could I like a girl who wasn't Topanga?" And I went through a similar thing this year. And… it's fucking terrifying. Even when it's a good thing. Even when it's something that makes you happy… that shift in the fabric of your world is still absolutely, fucking terrifying. Sometimes… think about the immensity of everything going on with Peter and it's still scary. I let him crack my world open in a big way."

 

"You didn't have anyone to hurt when you and Peter got together, Shawn."

 

"I know. It's not a perfect metaphor, just hear me out. You told me that Lauren was just… warm and down to earth. She wanted to get married, have a couple of kids. Have a very… white Pickett fence life. That's what you want. Topanga… never settles. Topanga's world is always getting bigger. When you were in that ski lodge, doing puzzles with Lauren, drinking cocoa in front of the fire Topanga was doing runs with the Olympic team. She exchanged emails with one of them. When you guys broke up you were focused on getting her back. She applied to Yale. Now she's at Yale. She's going out to clubs with her friends. She's… she isn't going to want to pop out your two and half kids, Cory. I think part of you has always known that. And… I think you still believe that Topanga is coming back to Philadelphia after college. And I don't think that's reasonable. She might end up in New York, or London, or Beijing or… fuck. I don't know. Nairobi… but Topanga's world in high school was the smallest it's ever going to be again. If you try to fence her in things are only going to get uglier."

 

Shawn's words bash over Cory, like the ocean pummeling a ship in a storm. He and Topanga belong together. They've been told that so may times. They've repeated it so many times. He's done so many things and made so may decisions based on his belief that he and Topanga are going to be together forever. He'd considered proposing to her before graduation, but in the end had decided that he couldn't make her feel like he was forcing her to chose between him and Yale.

 

"Shawn, why did you and Angela really break up?"

 

"Because of the distance, Cor. I told you that."

 

"But… it was more than that."

 

Shawn shrugs, pulls his arms tighter around himself. "I couldn't bare to watch someone I loved leave me behind again. And she got that. And we made a mutual decision. And that made it easier to keep caring about each other."

 

Cory tries to imagine what it would have been like to have that conversation with Topanga. 

 

"And what is it about Peter?" He asks, in order to escape from a swirling and half formed thought about what it really might have been like, and what the last few months of his life might have looked like had he made other choices. 

 

Shawn looks at him quizzically for a moment before answering, in a tone like the sound of marble. "He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe enough to do things I didn't think I could do. Do poetry in front of people. Take an advanced level class. Admit that I was always more pansexual than straight after all. And that I have some gender stuff going on that I'm not sure what to do with yet." After a moment, Shawn reaches into the sink, picks the condom up, and holds it out to Cory, between two fingers. "Is it Topanga that makes you feel safe? Or is it the story you've been telling yourself about the future?"

 

Cory stares at the condom and realizes the answer is no. Not just 'no' in the way Shawn wants to hear it, a begrudging admission that he needs to rethink whether or not he's going to be using this condom tonight, but a huge, echoing no. 

 

No. He doesn't feel like he and Topanga are on the same page. 

 

No. He doesn't feel like either of them are putting each other in front of their own needs, or acknowledging their own needs, or like they even know what the other's needs are anymore. 

 

No. He doesn't believe they are going to be together forever. 

 

No. He doesn't believe that they are going to last the year. 

 

No. He doesn't believe that love is all that matters. 

 

Time. Distance. The future. It's all stacked against them. 

 

Topanga loves the perfection of falling deeply into an innocent young love and having that crossed off of her list of achievements as she races ahead looking for more to accomplish. 

 

Cory loves the feeling that his life is heading toward a recognizable goal that he's been told so many times is important and valuable. He loves having someone in the wife shaped hole he's imagined in his future. 

 

They don't love each other as people anymore. They haven't for a long time. 

 

 And even if they did… there are things love cannot conquer. 

 

Cory takes the condom from Shawn, looks at it for a moment, then throws it into Shawn's shower stuff. 

 

He turns, lurches for the door, and yanks it open, all the while feeling as though his arms and legs have been strung back together wrong in the last few minutes. 

 

"Thanks, Shawn," he calls back before stepping out into the hallway. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stories, please recommend or follow me on tumblr
> 
> http://oncethrown.tumblr.com


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